


Something in Common

by aleria



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Crying, Cuddling & Snuggling, Drinking, Fluff, Gender-Neutral Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, M/M, Pining, Roommates, Slow Build, fun and cute, haha oops, just a simple story, just relax and read friends, ok some angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-09
Updated: 2017-10-24
Packaged: 2019-01-15 10:34:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 30,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12319278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aleria/pseuds/aleria
Summary: Lance and Keith meet as roommates and get off on entirely the wrong foot. They are determined not to be friends, but when Lance gets sick, Keith indulges him in a chapter from a book. It's all downhill from there. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯





	1. Chapter 1

Lance glared across the common table at the dark haired engineering student with the red shirt and the stupid, pouty face. The arms he had crossed over his chest were mirroring his own, which only served to make Lance more annoyed. They were locked in a battle of Who-Can-Look-More-Pissed-Off and damnit if Lance was going to lose. 

The atmosphere in the common room was otherwise light and cheerful. It was filled with new faces, each chattering away and filled to the brim with enthusiasm. Normally Lance would have joined in the socializing, but he was too busy feeling justifiably pissed off.

Months from now he’d look back and know he was being petty. It wasn’t a big deal really: he had a minor disagreement with his new roommate and these things _happen_. But right now the memory was still fresh in his mind: finding his luggage and boxes in the hall way, the door locked with his keys undoubtedly still inside of the room. It had been a real effort to knock politely on the door. When that didn’t work, he calmly asked the room next door if they had seen anyone come by. In the end he had sat for 30 minutes in the hallway, his patience growing thinner as time went on. By the time the culprit had shown up Lance was a seething pile of frustration and hunger.

So he started this year of college by having the biggest shouting match of his life.Everyone in the dorm had heard it and it took the RA showing up to calm either of them down. There was an excuse, of course. And a forced apology. And a shake of the hands which served more to test each other’s strength than to reconcile. Neither of them left the situation feeling any less angry.

And Lance was going to have to share the _room_ with this guy. What an idiot he had been, signing up for a double room instead of a single. It was cheaper, for sure, but he had actually done it in the hopes of making friends. 

There was _no way_ he was making friends with this guy.

The story was that the roommate, whose name was Keith, but who _cares_ , was told by the RA that there was a free room opening up on the second floor and that he wasn’t going to have to share with a roommate after all. But when the RA had left to confirm, Keith took it upon himself to evict his non-present roommate and lock the door when he left. Lance, who had only just left to visit a friend’s room, came back to the situation at that moment. When Keith returned, some choice words were said (yelled), haircuts were insulted, and ego ripped to shreds. To top it off, the RA revealed that there was not, in fact, a free room on the second floor.

The RA suggested they come down to the common room to cool down and meet the rest of the little dorm. It was one of the smallest residences at the college, only housing about 100 people, all split into 4 old buildings. That meant that there were not a lot of people crammed into the tiny common area, but it was suffocating nonetheless. 

“Alright, quiet down,” said the RA, who looked like what Hollywood would think a college student looked like. He was altogether too good-looking, his only flaw a patch of white hair at the front of his fringe. His name was Shiro and he was a masters student in the same program as Lance: civil engineering.

“We have rules to go over real quick, and I know you are all eager to get down to the opening ceremony...” Yeah, more like eager to find a party to get wasted at. Lance needed a drink. Or five.

“There is no drinking allowed in the dorm at all, and we have zero-tolerance for drugs.” He had to talk loudly to be heard over the 25 or more people in the room. “This is also a anti-bullying and anti-harassment school and I will be giving out the name of the ombudsman for the dorm. You should also all attend the date rape awareness seminar…”

The room was starting to lose focus as conversations started to pick up around the room. Lance almost felt bad for the RA, who looked like he was ready to graduate and be done with all of this. 

“Furthermore there is a noise policy--”

“Noise?” a tall girl piped up. She looked like the only one actually listening. “How about that brawl on third floor? Doesn’t that break some kind of rule?”

“Yeah, who was that?” someone else said, and suddenly the room was listening intently.

“Oh, I know!” said a girl who Lance recognized as his red-haired neighbour on the third floor. “These two chuckleheads.” All eyes turned to the table, which was conveniently in the middle of the common room. He unraveled the arms from his chest and shrunk into the seat a few inches. Across the table, Keith narrowed his eyes at Lance as a flush passed over his cheeks.

“That is not what we are talking about here,” Shiro said quickly. “If you wants to lodge a noise complaint--”

“Oh, I do!” the neighbour said again, her hand shooting up as though she was in class. She was undoubtedly a first year. “If those two are going to be yelling like that, there better be some serious smack-down.”

“They won’t be,” Shiro said, and it was clear he was losing his patience. He looked from Lance to Keith and the former felt himself grow even smaller. “Right guys?”

Lance grimaced and looked at Keith again. He wanted to snarl and say something clever and mean, but instead he nodded meekly.

“Yeah, sorry,” Keith said, not taking his eyes off of Lance. “Everything will be cool, right Lance?”

It was hard to ignore the sarcasm in his tone and Lance felt the anger trickly back in. “Yeah, it’ll be peachy.”

\---------------------

Lance was going to get really, truly drunk that night. School was not due to start for a week and when it did he wasn’t likely to have any time to slack off. While he had no doubt they would find ways to sneak alcohol into the dorm, tonight they were due at a kegger one street over. A time-honoured college tradition, keggers were cheap and easy to get into and Lance had become infamous in the kegger scene. He was a mix of charming and embarrassing, making friends easily and making a name for himself as a classic goofball. If you asked Lance, he would tell you he was _cool_. If you asked his friends, they would probably cringe.

He would have been looking forward to tonight if his buddy Hunk had not _royally_ fucked up.

“What the hell,” he said with exaggerating incredulity. “...is _he_ doing here?” He was pointing at Keith, who had not yet changed since he had abandoned him in the room half an hour before.

“Oh, Keith’s in our Circuits class,” Hunk said cheerfully, putting a big hand on Keith’s shoulder. The latter flinched slightly. “Keith this is--”

“I _know_ ,” Keith snapped, making Hunk’s face fall. “We’re roommates.”

“Ah, all the better then!” Hunk said, the smile back on his round face.

“No, _not_ better,” Lance said with a scowl. He didn’t like yelling at Hunk, the big lovable pumpkin pie that he was, but the afternoon’s yelling match combined with the silent treatment for the rest of the day had put him on edge. He was determined not to get along with this guy, and Hunk was ruining that for him. “Hunk, I am going to need you to start running these things by me.”

“Who cares,” Keith said before Hunk could reply. He passed Lance with his hands in his jean pockets and headed down the darkening street. “Obviously you need to get over it. What are you, in highschool?”

Lance felt himself bristling, but he couldn’t find the words to accurately portray his frustration. He had to actually close his eyes to keep himself from losing himself to the sensation. Instead he imagined the waves of the ocean, the smell of deep fried food, and the glossy hair of a beautiful girl. Then he took a breath and willed himself to be calm.

“Right, who cares,” he agreed, turning to Hunk before linking arms with him. “I don’t. All I care about is a drink, right Hunk?” He felt a wiggle of determination that propelled him after his roommate. “I’m going to have _fun_ tonight. And no one can ruin this for me.”

“God forbid we try,” came Keith’s snarky reply.

The blessed thing about a house party is that it doesn’t matter who you are, all are welcome, and all are friends. The three students approached the house to the sounds of drunken greetings from the crowd of people on the front porch. They didn’t recognize any of them, of course, but it didn’t matter. They happily paid someone at the door for use of the keg and were patted on the back by several unsteady young people holding red cups. 

“Yeaaaah students~!” someone said drunkenly. “God love ‘em.”

The three shouldered their way through a crowded front hallway, filled with the smell of beer and a constant din of chatter that masked the what was probably music playing from the living room. They made their way to the kitchen, however, where two kegs were being swarmed by partiers. 

“Laaaance!” called someone in the kitchen. 

“Rollo, my buddy,” Lance said, giving a tall, long-faced acquaintance a high-five. “You survived the summer, I see.”

“Oh my God LANCE,” a girl added, nearly slamming right into Lance. He barely managed to get his drink out of the way in time. “This beer is SHIT. I fucking HATE KEGGERS.” Her hair is pink and it takes him a minute to recognize a girl from his Communications class. 

“Ah, Azin…?

“AZOR,” she says drunkenly, poking him in the chest with a thin finger. “You didn’t _call me_. We were supposed to _hang out_.” She was narrowing black eyes at him and he decided to put on a charming smile. 

“Azor, of course. I spent the summer working on a farm, so…”

“Holy shit, Lance, why am I even _here_?” This time a short, bespectacled student came out of the crowd, steadying themselves on Hunk’s arm. “Hunk, I fucking hate parties. WHY AM I HERE?”

Lance was in his fucking element. Everyone knew him and he finally had a drink and everything was going to be _fine_. By the time he was done his third drink he didn’t even mind that his roommate had apparently super-glued himself to Lance’s side, even when Hunk and the others found other people to bother. Keith talked sparingly and made himself inconspicuous and if Lance tried really hard he didn’t even notice that he was there.

That is, until he emptied his stomach all over a bush in the backyard. “Shit, man,” Lance said when others nearby backed away in disgust. He was barely nursing a slight buzz, and so far as he knew, Keith hadn’t drank any faster than him. He wanted to make a snarky comment about what a lightweight he was, but he bit his tongue.

How much Lance wanted to leave this guy behind and continue to socialize. He had just been in the middle of a conversation with a girl _way_ out of his league, and though she was gone now, he had no doubt he could find her again. But Keith was leaning on his knees, trembling, and looking altogether too pathetic.

“I am the best roommate ever, by the way,” he said to Keith as he steered him down the alleyway and to the sidewalk in front of the house. “This is me being the better man.”

“The fuck you talking about,” Keith muttered, sounding sullen and stubborn. But he didn’t release the hand that clutched Lance’s arm as they made their uneasy way down the street.

“I should have made you walk home alone,” Lance went on. “But no, I am a _saint_.”

Keith swayed, and Lance caught him in time to bring him back to his feet. Still awake, Keith righted himself, and continued to amble forward without help.

“Want a metal or a chest to pin it on?” Keith said in a low tone that was altogether too sentient for someone who wasn’t walking in a straight line. How could someone so drunk sound so damn snarky?

“You don’t drink much, do you?”

Keith waved a hand in a dismissive way. “Drinking is lame,” he said with a faint slur this time. 

“Then why did you come with us?”

Keith did not answer right away, but stopped to steady himself on a lamppost. He looked down at his sneakers, as if about to be sick again, but then kept walking uneasily. “Supposed to,” he said finally. “It’s what you do in college, right?”

Lance wasn’t sure what to say to that, so he followed in silence. 

“Go out, get drunk, make friends…” Keith seemed to be rambling now. “Be young, forget the shit. Ugh…” He paused again, and Lance closed the space between them to stand by his side. He was sick again, though in a more controlled way than last time. Lance instinctively rubbed his back, as he would with any drunk friend. “Fuck, drinking is the worst.”

“Yeah, it sucks,” Lance admitted. “Don’t worry, buddy. It’ll get easier.”

“Buddy?”

Lance felt himself grin. “Take that with a grain of salt. _If_ you remember it tomorrow.”


	2. Chapter 2

Keith remembered being called ‘buddy’. He remembered Lance standing beside him, rubbing his back. He remembered being helped up the stairs and the cold glass of water being pressed into his hand.

The problem was the stupid, smug look on his roommate’s face the next morning. The problem was Lance’s dumbass comments about Keith being a lightweight and how he had heroically left the party to care for him. Actually, the real problem was the pounding headache behind Keith’s eyes the next morning, but damn it if he was going to admit it.

Living with Lance was going to try Keith’s patience more than anything he had faced so far. He told Shiro as much when he met with him the next day for coffee. It had been Shiro who convinced Keith to come back to school after taking a year off and he was grateful for him for finding him a place to stay on such short notice, even if the roommate situation was less than ideal.

“You just got off to a bad start,” Shiro said, leaning back in his chair and drinking his coffee. He grimaced and put another packet of sugar in before continuing. “You’re almost the same age, in the same program, and you’ll probably end up having a lot else in common, too.”

Keith frowned over his blissfully black coffee. “Like what? Drinking?”

Shiro frowned. He was trying to turn a blind eye on the fact that they were not quite the legal drinking age yet. “Like, I don’t know-- sports? Movies? Video games?”

Keith wracked his brain for what interests he had that might be shared with a 19-year-old. Keith mostly read in his free time: books were easier to travel with than game consoles. “Ugh, this is too hard,” he said with a groan. The headache he was trying to ignore was catching up with him. “He’s a little shit, Shiro. He has this fucking _ego_ and leaves his clothes all over the place. It’s only been a day and I already want to kill him.”

Shiro sighed. “Just, be patient.” He said that a lot. “If it doesn’t work out by the end of the semester, I can put in a request to have you moved to another dorm.”

One semester-- that wouldn’t be hard, would it?

It didn’t help that they had identical schedules. Everyone in the engineering program in second year did-- they had yet to divide into the different specializations. This meant that they left the dorm at the same time and had the same breaks. After a week of dodging each other and keeping to their own schedules, suddenly Keith was forced to walk to class with Lance.

Not that Lance didn’t try to keep it interesting. If nothing else, he was good at talking. He could go on without any help from the listening party, which suited Keith just fine. He would comment on the cafeteria food, the other students, the class schedule and the professors. He might have been talking to himself, except for when he glanced over to his roommate out of the corner of his eye to see if he was still listening.

“Ugh, what is UP with you?” he said finally, throwing his arms in the air on first day of class. “You don’t talk at _all_?”

Keith blinked in surprise. “I- I thought you were getting on fine without me.”

“Well, yeah, I don’t mind talking to myself, but-- my dude, you’re allowed to say _anything_. Were you raised by wolves?”

Quite nearly. “What do you want me to say?”

“Ugh, seriously?” Keith couldn’t understand why Lance looked so annoyed. Usually people were way more annoyed when their companions talked too much. Like Lance was. “I’m not going to be your social coach, Keith. You break out of that cocoon yourself.”

Keith frowned. “I don’t want to-- I like listening. It’s easier.”

“Well, you aren’t going to make friends that way,” Lance said with a hint of annoyance still in his tone. 

“Who said I want to make friends?”

“ _You_ did, you lush. Remember? College is for making friends. So open that pretty mouth of yours and make some damn friends.”

As if walking together to class wasn’t enough, Keith ended up sitting with Lance and his friends during lectures as well. He remembered Hunk from the party, a big, tall guy with tanned skin and an easy smile. Making friends with him as as easy as making eye contact. He immediately sat down beside Keith and started to bombard him with questions that Keith barely had time to answer before he was introduced to another would-be ‘friend’.

“This is Pidge,” Lance said with a flourish of his hand. “They went to school with Hunk or something. What was the story again?”

“That’s it. That’s the story,” Pidge said with a deadpan voice. “Stop trying to make our lives into an anime. We aren’t that exciting.”

“Pff, anime. Who watches that anyway?” Lance said with trepidation in his voice. His glance at Keith was none-too-subtle before Hunk was back to asking questions.

“But if you weren’t here last year, then where were you?”

Keith shifted on the uncomfortable bench seating of the huge lecture hall. Other students were greeting each other as they found their seats, their voices carrying in the echoing stadium seating. “I was travelling.”

“Oooo where? I went to Australia last year with my family, and if I can save up I want to go to Mexico, mostly for the food.”

Keith wondered if he could listen instead of answering the question, but Hunk paused with a friendly smile. “Mostly in the US,” he said evasively. “I’ve been to Korea, though.”

“Oh, my GOD I would love to go there. And Japan. And actually anywhere in Asia. Lance, can we go to Korea?”

Thankfully the professor tapped on his microphone, signalling the start of class, because Keith was already exhausted from this whole ‘friend-making’ business. After a year of quasi-solitude, being around this many people was stifling. He wondered how many social gatherings he was going to be forced to attend. With Lance, it would mean _all of them_.

For example, the common room was full again that night. Not so much as the first night, but all of the chairs, couches and counter tops were occupied with people. There was no occasion-- just the simple joy of young people getting together. There was a little TV in the corner but no one was paying attention to what was playing. Most people were listening to Lance from where he sat on the table.

“So they have me going for this cow, right? And I don’t know if you’ve seen a cow up close before but they are fucking _huge_. And all I can think about is: ‘ _Don’t go near the butt, don’t go near the butt_ ’.” The small audience was laughing, and Lance was eating up the attention. “And I kid you not--” He paused to roll up his sleeve. From where Keith is sitting on an armchair nearby, he could see an old, yellow bruise on his forearm. “They should have warned me about the head because those motherfuckers can _bite_! If she wanted to, she could have taken a chunk out of my arm but the handler told me that the cow actually _liked_ me.”

“I can’t believe you were a _farm boy_ ,” Pidge said with a cackle, which made several others join in. Keith couldn’t help letting a small smile crawl over his face. In that moment Lance looked over at him and caught the smile, and before Keith could react he was returning it with gusto.

“I’ll bet Keith has good stories,” Hunk said then, having noticed where Lance was looking. “You said you went travelling?”

Keith tried not to flinch under all of the eyes that were suddenly trained on him. “Uh, sorry. I don’t really have any stories.”

“Oh, come on. Travelling for a whole year and nothing to tell? You must have _something_.”

“Yeah, come on, Keith.” This time it was the girl from next door. When did she learn his name?

The pressure of the situation was suddenly mounting on him. He swallowed thickly as a warm feeling rose up his neck and around his ears. “I- uh,” he mumbled lamely.

“Shit,” Lance said suddenly, jumping down from the table. “Keith, we were supposed to report to the RA.”

Keith let surprise take him for just a moment, before he rose from the chair. “Right,” he managed, though in truth he wasn’t sure what his roommate was talking about. Were they in trouble with Shiro for drinking after all?

They bade goodnight to the others in the common room and made their way up the faded, carpeted stairs. The old residence smelled slightly musty, telling of its age. It was also the cheapest of the dorms on campus, and Keith supposed he was grateful for that, too.

“So, the RA…”

Lance laughed. “Did you like that? The heroic rescue?” 

Keith blinked from behind his roommate. “The--”

“We aren’t going to see the RA, dummy. I just had to think of an excuse to get you out of there before you popped like a balloon.”

Finally it dawned on Keith, and just as quickly he was determined not admit that Lance was quite as heroic as he thought he was. “I could have handled it.”

“You sure, buddy? Because I’ve never seen someone turn that colour before.”

Keith was well aware that he was turning ‘that colour’ again, and he hoped Lance wouldn’t turn around to see. “I’m working on it,” he said with annoyance. “It’s been awhile since I’ve talked to people, OK?”

Lance chuckled as he strode down the hallway to their room. “Well, you’re talking to me, aren’t you?”

“Only because I _have to_.”

“Oh, admit it. You think I’m as cool as everyone else does.” He unlocked the door with a jiggle of the handle-- a trick that they had to learn from the last tenants-- and turned to smirk at Keith.

“You wish.” Keith replied, but he was smiling, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please someone tell me this isn't a waste of time...??


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK, FINE I'll write more, but I'm blaming you people if my life falls apart.

OK, so, being friends with Keith wasn’t such a terrible idea after all. Sure, they managed to piss each other off from time to time and there were moments when Keith was so unbelievably stubborn that Lance wanted to throw him out the window, but overall he wasn’t such a bad person. And little by little he was coming out of his shell, talking to new people and forming connections. He was even _nice_ to people on occasion, and received his very own invitations to parties. Which Lance was totally not jealous about, because he got _lots_ of party invites.

He supposed he should be proud, really, that Keith seemed to have no reservation in talking to him. Even if their relationship was more like squabbling siblings half the time, at least he was open and honest with Lance. He was even on the verge of finally figuring out where Keith had been for a year, and why he didn’t want to talk about it with anyone else.

In the fourth week of classes a plague hit the college. Nearly half their lab was out with flu symptoms and Lance boasted about his strong constitution a little too early, because he woke up on the first school day of October and felt like a piece of shit.

He dragged himself to class because he wasn’t yet ready to admit defeat but by lunchtime he was getting tired of the looks that Keith was giving him.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” he asked for the five hundredth time.

Lance waved a dismissive hand because his head was suddenly swimming. The pain in his throat was not getting better, despite the cup of tea he nursed and he felt a rush of tingles in his sinuses that threatened to throw him into another fit of sneezes.

“I just need a quick nap,” Lance said with as much confidence as he could muster. He stood up uneasily from the little cafe table that he shared with Keith, because Hunk and Pidge were both already sick in bed. 

The walk back to the dorm seemed longer than usual. Lance felt light, like a cloud, floating hazily above the rest of reality. He thought dreamily of his bed and suddenly a deep fatigue fell over him. The rest of the trip he did not remember, and when he returned to the room he barely managed to remember which side of the room was his before crawling gratefully under the covers.

\---------------------------------

Lance woke up in pain. In the haze of half sleep it was hard to pinpoint its origin. His back ached and his throat stung when he tried to swallow. His head was throbbing and there was a deep, strange feeling in his gut. When he tried to open his eyes, his vision swam and he actually _whimpered_.

“Lance?” It wasn’t his mother’s voice, but any voice was a blessing in that moment. He looked over to the bed on the other wall. Keith was sitting there, leaning forward onto his knees. “How do you feel?”

“Great,” Lance replied, or tried to, but it sounded like he had swallowed gravel. “Peachy.”

“Pathetic,” Keith said, and when Lance forced his eyes open again he saw that he was smirking. 

“Don’t be mean,” he whined. “Or I will lick your pillows.”

“You couldn’t make it over here if you tried.”

“Don’t tempt me.”

Keith let out a breathy laugh before standing up. “Alright, kid, what do you need?”

“A million dollars.”

“I mean medicine, you smart ass. I’m going to the convenience store.” He crossed the room to pick up the shoulder bag he always wore. The one with the red strap. 

“I want chocolate.”

“Ugh, you’re such a baby,” Keith said in the most condescending way possible. Lance would be annoyed if he didn’t feel like such shit. “Last chance.” Lance could only manage a little wave which Keith interpreted as his cue to leave. 

In the silence of the room, Lance got back to the business of feeling sorry for himself. He curled into a little ball under the blankets, shivering despite the layers of clothing and blankets. He was still wearing a long sleeved shirt and jeans, his wallet still in his pocket. He shifted slowly, wriggling out of his pants. It was colder now, so he hugged his legs and willed himself back to sleep.

When he woke up again it was dark, but for a beam of thin light coming from the other side of the room. Keith often stayed up late on his phone, curled against his two pillows. Lance watched him for a minute before something alerted him to look over.

“Hey,” he said quietly. The digital clock on Lance’s side table said it was 11:02pm.

“Hey,” Lance replied just as quietly. Keith shifted out of the bed. He was wearing a pair of plaid pajama pants that Lance hadn’t seen before and his usual black t-shirt. He crossed the room to his desk where he switched on a little lamp. 

“This stuff’s strong enough to knock out a horse,” he was saying as he rifled through a plastic bag on the desk. He extracted a bottle of medicine and tossed it onto Lance’s bed before diving in for more. “Then there’s gatorade, kleenex, and this lemonade shit.” 

“Keith, what the hell,” Lance managed to say as he lifted himself up slightly.

“This is payback,” Keith explained. “For taking care of me when I was drunk.”

 _Ah_ , Lance thought. _Now I can’t hold that episode over him. Darn_. “Thanks, man.”

“Just take your damn medicine and go to sleep.” Keith put the rest of the bag beside Lance’s bed before dipping back into his own nest of blankets. Lance sat up with a struggle and eyed the medicine bottle. It was the drinkable stuff and there was a long list of symptoms it would supposedly alleviate. The childish side of him wanted to complain about the flavour but he took a substantial swig of it anyway and tried not to grimace at the thick, sickly sweetness. 

“Good boy,” Keith said with a breathy laugh. Lance glared at him, which took the last of his strength. Then he settled back to bed and closed his eyes, not opening them again for a long time.

Lance got sick just about as often as most kids did. He had chicken pox and a few flus that kept him out of school for days at a time. The only difference, so far as he knew, was that his fevers are a lot more frightening. Not for his mother-- she force fed him medicine and spent a lot of time telling him to ‘suck it up’. No, it was frightening for little Lance. He would hallucinate-- not seeing things, per se, but observing things incorrectly. The rooms would look disproportionate, sounds would seem too loud, and things he touched would feel too small. He would hear things, too. Conversations would echo in his brain, each bounce making the words louder, and angrier. 

But these were nothing to the nightmares. He would dream of strange, empty factories full of red, grinding gears. Or vast, endless spaces where the stars are too far apart. The images themselves were not frightening, but each recurring dream was accompanied by a deep, panic-inducing sense of fear. He would wake up crying, only to greet a bedroom that never quite looked right. Not until his fever went down.

It had been years since the last time Lance had these symptoms. He boasted that he hardly ever got sick and had the immune system of a bull. The memories of his frightening fever dreams were distant and insubstantial.

But that night they came back in force. He woke shuddering, eyes wide open in the semi-darkness of the early hours. His eyes prickled with tears which he swallowed harshly, immediately searching for memories or thoughts that would calm him down. But the dull fear lingered in his mind, clouding his already feverish senses. The blankets felt strange in between his clenched fists and he dropped them in disgust before running two hands over his face. His sinuses were screaming and he writhed on the bed, barely holding back a whimper. 

“Lance?”

Lance didn’t reply as the sound repeated in his brain, scratchy and strange like an out-of-tune radio. 

“Lance, what’s wrong?”

He lowered his hands to look at Keith, who had left his own bed to peer down at his roommate. Lance wanted to say something offhand but he couldn’t find the strength. “I don’t feel good,” was what he said instead. Keith’s face relaxed into a look of mild worry, with a faint smile that Lance’s mother might wear.

“You have a fever,” Keith observed and Lance flinched slightly from the cool hand on his forehead. The sound of rattling told him Keith was fumbling with the bottle of Tylenol he had bought last night. “Sit up.” Lance obeyed and was given two pills and a glass of water. He took them both at once and winced as the water struggled down his thick, scratchy throat. Then he settled back into bed.

“Now go back to sleep.”

Lance was shaking his head before he knew what he was doing. “I dunno if I can,” he admitted. The room was swimming and it looked as though the walls were actually _breathing_. “Nightmares and all that.” The illness was making him more honest than he would have liked.

The look on Keith’s face was annoyingly sympathetic. “You should read,” he said slowly. “That’s what I do when I can’t sleep.”

Lance imagined the sensation of the thin pages between his fingers and the words wriggling across the pages. He shook his head slowly on the pillow. “I don’t think I can.”

Keith looked off somewhere in the dark room. “What if I read?”

Lance wanted to be surprised, but such an offer was so close to what his dad used to do when he was a child that he was almost relieved to hear it. He had forgotten how many books they had finished together all those years ago. “Yeah,” he managed.

Keith hesitated for just a moment before crossing the room to find a suitcase in the closet. The thumps and rustling sounds attacked Lance’s head and he pushed the pillows over his ear to mute them. When Keith returned, he was holding a small novel. “Just don’t read too loud,” Lance said, trying not to sound petulant. “I mean, sounds hurt my head right now.”

“Then move over a bit,” Keith said, moving to sit on the bed. He turned on the little side lamp by the bed and leaned against the headboard. Lance shifted as much as he could in the little twin mattress, the motion making his vision swim. When he settled, Keith was beside him with his knees drawn up and the book open to the first page.

“ _Prologue: When the world was new, the seven Gods dwelt in harmony, and the races of man were as one people._ ”

“Oh God,” Lance piped up. “This is a fantasy book, isn’t it?” Not that he minded, really.

“Shut up and listen,” Keith scolded. “I’m the one reading, so I choose the book, got it?”

“Yes mother.”

Keith let out an impatient breath and went on. “ _Belar, the youngest of the Gods, was beloved by the Alorns…_ ”


	4. Chapter 4

Lance didn’t remember falling asleep, but he must have because he eventually felt the dull pain of wakefulness. Slowly he pulled himself into consciousness, fighting the fog in his brain. A pale light was coming into the window from an overcast sky, but otherwise the room was empty. Lance rolled over to see the book on the side table, with scrap of paper caught between two pages. He reached out to tilt the book towards his face. The cover was typical of a fantasy series, with dramatic-looking characters on a map backdrop. The title read _Pawn of Prophecy._

There was also a paper bag on the side table, and when Lance looked inside, he discovered a breakfast sandwich that he wasn’t hungry for, but he appreciated nonetheless. There was a note on the bag that read: ‘ _Lance, I’ve gone to class. I don’t care if you aren’t hungry-- eat something! Also go to the campus clinic, because you sound gross. Don’t touch my stuff. - Keith’_.

Lance let a stupid smile cover his face, despite how crummy he felt. How long was he going to let Keith spoil him like this? Not only was he running errands for him, but the guy actually read him to sleep last night. Lance should have been nursing a bruised male ego, but instead he felt a mixture of warmth and homesickness. If he was at home, he would have let any number of relatives take care of him. Here at school, thousands of miles from his home, it was nice to let someone else do it, even if it was a reluctant roommate.

Lance spent the rest of the morning eating sparingly and browsing his phone from the safety of his bed. The fever that had wracked him last night came back half way through the day and he took more Tylenol to keep it at bay. He knew he should go to the clinic, but it was a good 15 minute walk away and he was so _tired_ , so he napped instead.

He woke with a start when Keith returned, despite how quietly the other entered the room. “Dead yet?” he asked, dropping his bag on the desk chair. 

“You wish.” Lance’s voice was almost non-existent at this point. When he tried to clear his throat it screamed in pain. He coughed, and a deep pain also resonated in his chest. He coughed again.

“Gross,” Keith said with a worried look that Lance wanted to ignore. “You need to go to the doctor, Lance.”

“I’m fine,” Lance lied. He nestled deeper into his blankets stubbornly. “I like it here.”

Keith sucked his teeth impatiently and marched over to the bed. “Get up,” he said with authority. He tugged at the blanket, and though Lance struggled to maintain hold of it, he was weak in his sickly state. He yelped in discomfort as his legs were exposed to the cooler air. “Put some pants on. We’re going to the clinic.”

“I’m too tired,” Lance whined. “I’ll just sleep it off.”

“Nope,” Keith said as he started to scavenge around the room for a discarded pair of jeans. He found one that was apparently satisfactory, and tossed it at Lance. “Come on. Or I’ll get Shiro to drag you out of there.”

The threat of getting the RA involved was enough to motivate Lance and he slowly but surely put on pants and a new shirt, as well as a hoodie and a coat, and a hat and scarf. He was so _cold_.

They took the campus bus, which cut down the travel time by ten minutes. Lance nearly nodded off on the short bus trip, trying not to lean on Keith’s arm too much and failing. By the time they reached their stop, Keith was firmly wedged between Lance and the plexiglass separator, and he had to practically push Lance to his feet.

The clinic was busy with other students, but there was a pair of seats that allowed Lance to sit and doze for a time. Keith shook him awake when his number was called and accompanied him to the examination room.

The doctor was a tall, beautiful woman with a fine, dark complexion and indigo eyes. Lance would have been tempted to flirt with her was he not feeling so miserable. 

“Another one,” the doctor sighed, pulling out a stethoscope to listen to Lance’s chest. He heaved a breath in and out, and even he could hear the rattle and suck of bad lungs. Then she looked in his eyes, ears and throat before making a ‘tsk’ sound and writing something on her clipboard.

“You have a lung and throat infection,” she said, he tone suggesting it was all his fault. “And your ears don’t look great either. I’ll give you a prescription for antibiotics and a note to stay out of class for a week.”

Lance would have been happy with the time off of class, but he was too busy hating life.

“And what about you?” she said sharply, looking at Keith. He jumped, as if he thought he had been invisible. “Any symptoms?”

“N-no. None at all.” Lance couldn’t blame Keith for the slight stammer in his voice. This doctor was surprisingly intimidating. 

“Well, don’t wait until the last minute to see me like this one,” she said, giving Lance a reprimanding look. “Better to nip it in the bud.”

Keith nodded obediently and they were both shooed from the room without further delay. When they were outside the clinic, Keith plucked the prescription from Lance’s hand. “I’ll pick this up for you. You go home and sleep.”

“Keith,” Lance said, which was an effort because sleep sounded _really_ nice right now. “Why are you doing all this for me?”

Keith looked mildly annoyed at the question. “Because you’re pathetic. You’d probably die of neglect if I didn’t help you.”

Lance rubbed at his face by his nose where his sinuses were screaming. “That’s not a good answer,” he said stupidly. “I mean, I thought you hated me. Why are you being so nice?”

Keith actually looked surprised, in a scowling sort of way. “I don’t hate you,” he said slowly. “Sure you’re an idiot and you make me want to murder you sometimes, but… we’re friends, aren’t we?” 

Lance couldn’t believe how glad those words made him feel. He let a weak smile cover his features. “Yeah,” he said faintly. “We are.”

\-----------------

After a meager dinner and a half-hearted attempt at reading a lab for class, Lance ended up in bed again, wishing he could just die already. Keith had dropped off the antibiotics before heading out to the library and Lance caught himself wishing his roommate would stay, if only for someone to take his mind off the pain.

Hunk had texted him sometime in the day wondering where he was. Apparently both he and Pidge were already back of their feet, having only suffered minor cold symptoms. Hunk was surprised and concerned when he heard that Lance had actually gone to the doctor. 

_are u eating??_ was Hunk’s predictable question. _should i bring somethin from the caf??_

_im covered. Keith has gone full mom mode on me_

_no way i thought you guys hated each other …??_

_im too cute_

Lance paused before sending that last text, his finger hovering over the screen. Despite everything he said, he still couldn't fully account for how nice Keith was being. Had Lance so completely misjudged him? 

_I have to make this up to him,_ he decided in that moment. _I have to be his friend, too._

When Keith returned that evening Lance was caught in limbo between sleep and wakefulness. His fever had receded, leaving him with a lingering fatigue and overall ache that never allowed him to be completely comfortable. He shifted and rolled in the bed, wanting sleep to take him. He complained to Keith the moment he could.

“If this is what you are going to be like for a week,” Keith said with mock annoyance. “Then I am moving in with Hunk.”

Lance stuck out his lower lip in what he knew to be a convincing pout. “Then who will take care of me?”

“No one. And you’ll die. Thank God.”

Lance whimpered, rolling in the bed again like a toddler. “What ever happened to being friends?”

“I take it all back.”

Lance told himself Keith wasn’t being serious, but a nagging, self-doubting voice in his mind wouldn’t let it be. He lay on his stomach, hugging his pillow to his face. “I know I can be annoying--”

“Oh shut up,” Keith cut him off. He threw himself on his own bed with his hands behind his head. “Annoying or not, I’m not going anywhere. Now what can I do to help you sleep?” Lance grinned.

“How about chapter 1?”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -flips table-
> 
> THIS SHIT IS SO FUN TO WRITE

Despite the doctor’s note, and Lance’s propensity for slacking off, Lance was back on his feet and back to school in only a few days. He continued to cough and sniff, both of which kept them up at night and forced Keith to invest in earplugs. Keith’s own schedule was suffering from the illness as well-- Lance insisted that Keith read to him every night and he was only able to slip back to his own bed after the invalid had fallen asleep. 

Keith wanted to say that the whole ordeal was irritating and bothersome, but he couldn’t find himself to hate Lance for it. Far from it, he was enjoying the reading most of all. The book he had chosen was a childhood favourite: something his father had read to him when he was old enough to read to himself, but young enough to want his parent to indulge him. He could understand, then, the feelings of security that the book could elicit. It was a rolling epic fantasy, not so complicated or violent to wrap a sick brain around, but exciting enough to distract the mind from bodily pains.

Then there was the comfortable feeling of familial intimacy that Keith was entirely unprepared for. Reading in bed with his dad-- that was a memory he treasured and something he regarded as normal between family. He did not expect those feelings of warmth and closeness to arise when he did the same thing with Lance. But even this did not turn him away from the idea. Instead he felt a little lost when Lance finally declared that he was Better™ and that Keith needn’t take care of him any more.

“Thank God,” Keith lied as they got ready for class together. He shouldered his bag and watched the slow, careful movements of his roommate. He was not entirely recovered, but at least he had the energy to go to school. They walked slowly, too, on the pretense of Lance wanting to enjoy the autumn sun. As ever, Keith indulged him. 

Lance’s attitude was back on track, however. On the way to class he managed to flirt with three girls, high five seven people passing by, offend one driver and flip off two distant partiers. He was back to trying to get on Keith’s nerves, too.

“Admit it, you wouldn't last 5 minutes in a conversation with a girl,” he said after waving goodbye to a female acquaintance. “Have you even gone on a date before?”

“None of your business,” Keith said with real annoyance. He wanted to say something witty and confident but the effort was useless. 

“Thought so. Keith, buddy, you are lucky to have me as a friend. I will teach you everything I know.”

Keith groaned. “Which is nothing, from what I've seen.”

“Hey, that chick was totally into me.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, buddy.”

Apparently what actually helped Lance sleep at night was a good book. Keith was prepared that night to go back to his normal routine of using phone for an hour before sleeping. He switched off his bedside light, ignoring the sounds of Lance grumbling to himself in bed.

“Stupid nose,” he said thickly. Keith could hear how stuffed up he was: Lance had to hold his breath to take a swig of water. Finally he sighed and fell back onto his pillows. Keith could feel him watching him in silence but chose not to look over. 

“So, what,” Lance said slightly confrontationally. “That's it? You don't want to know what happens to Garion and company?”

Keith forced his eyes off of his phone screen and to the pout on Lance’s face. “What?”

“The book, genius. Are you not gunna keep reading?”

Keith shifted uneasily. “I've read it before.”

Lance didn't speak right away. His mouth was slightly open almost as though he was upset. For once, he didn't seem to know what to say. 

Keith sighed and put down his phone. “Do you want me to read to you?”

“Do you want to read to _me_?”

Keith tried to suppress his annoyance. “I asked first.”

“Yes, please.” 

Keith was surprised at the quick reply and when he watched Lance’s face he realizes he was just as startled. Lance’s ears were starting to turn red.

Any desire to tease Lance was dissolved by that earnest admission and Keith slid out of bed without another word. Lance was already shuffling over to make room on his own bed and Keith settled there with only a moment's hesitation. Lance was close beside him and he could feel his warmth pressed on his arm, as though he still had a fever. The moment felt strange and made him quickly scoop up the book to cover his nervousness. 

“Chapter 7,” he started as evenly as possible. “ _It took them four days to reach Darine on the north coast_.”

\----------------------

They read together for a month. It started with just a few chapters a night and spiralled into the second and third book in the series. They squeezed a chapter around studying for midterms, finished chapters while walking to class, and stayed up too late on school nights to avoid stopping on cliffhangers. Sometimes Lance read, too, with Keith correcting his pronunciation and laughing at the character voices that he used. Lance stopped watching his favourite shows (“I can catch up on the holidays”) and when they went out to socialize they made jokes to each other in passing, referring to characters from the novel.

“Hunk is definitely Barak,” Lance decided. “If only for his size.” It was a small kitchen party at a friend’s house-- someone Hunk wanted them to meet. The rundown house was decorated with posters on the walls of sci fi movies. For the moment, Keith and Lance were being ignored.

“Does that make Pidge Silk?” Keith answered before taking a sip of his tea. He had learned his lesson the last time they drank and decided to avoid alcohol for now. Lance was two beers in. 

“Oh, lord, they make a perfect Silk!” Lance laughed. “I am going to imagine them every time now. Wow.”

“What does that make us?”

Lance considered this. “Well, I always considered myself the main character…”

“Of course.” Keith rolled his eyes.

“Which makes you… the dry voice in my head?” Lance laughed as Keith gave him a scathing look. 

“How come I get to be disembodied? Whatever.” The others were returning, laughing about some altercation on the street which they had left to watch, and Lance and Keith went back to normal socializing, giving each other significant glances every so often. 

Classes were starting to ramp up by November, however, and the roommates spent a larger portion of time working on assignments and studying for midterms. Lance complained all the way through their study sessions, which sometimes involved 4 or 5 of them from the engineering program. 2nd year, the seniors warned them, was one of the easiest semesters, but they were already swamped with work. Even after spending the weekends in the library, Keith and Lance stayed up late at their respective desks, scribbling out study sheets. 

“That’s it,” Keith said with a yawn. “I can’t do this any more. It’s bed time.”

Lance put down his pen in unison and turned to look at over. Keith could read the mournful look on his face right away, but he wanted to ignore it. He was so tired. 

“No, Lance. I’m going to bed. I’m _exhausted_.”

“I checked,” Lance said with a note of plea in his voice. He jumped up to grab the latest book they were reading. “It’s a super short chapter. Please?”

Keith sighed, because he wanted to read the next chapter as much as Lance. Besides, reading relaxed him and took his mind off of the studying so that he could sleep in peace. And who could say ‘no’ to that face?

He arranged his usual place next to Lance on the bed. He had lately been bringing over his own pillow to support his back and he settled on it comfortably. Lance’s usual warm presence was welcome as the chill in the autumn air leaked into the old building and fought for dominance with the bad radiators. He tucked his toes under the covers for good measure.

Keith didn’t remember falling asleep. He woke up slouched in the bed, nearly in a lying position, with his head rested on Lance’s. Lance was asleep as well, his breathing deep and noisy. Keith considered slipping away, back to his own, cold bed, but he was reluctant. It was so comfortably warm here and he felt himself drowsing again. 

He switched off the light instead and wriggled carefully down so that he was lying sideways on the edge of the bed. Lance mumbled something incoherent and Keith felt a heavy arm slide over his waist to rest on his arm. Though their bodies were no quite touching, Keith could feel the rise and fall of Lance’s chest as he slept on.

Keith was too tired to think about things like embarrassment or confusion. He let his mind go blank as he enjoyed the simple comfort of sleeping in someone else’s arms.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok so, where I am from the legal drinking age is 19 but I guess I am assuming the setting is in the US...? It's weird to think they'd need fake IDs to drink. ; /

Lance lay awake for uncounted minutes, listening to his heartbeat and wondering how it wasn’t waking up the entire dorm. He dared not move-- Keith was asleep in front of him, his breathing steady and deep. The book they had been reading was lying on the floor, as though dropped accidentally, but the bedside lamp wasn’t on, as though deliberately switched off.

The situation had Lance’s brain running in confused circles. Keith must have dozed off while reading, just as Lance had. That would be why the bookmark was not arranged meticulously between the pages of the discarded book. But the lamp was off, suggesting that Keith had made a conscious choice to sleep here last night, instead of making the short trip to his own bed. The added confusion was in trying to answer why Lance was spooning him, and why it felt so _nice_.

An impatient knock on the door made Lance jump violently and he sat bolt upright. “GUYS. Are you still in there? Statistics midterm? In 20 minutes?! 30% of your grade?!? Any of this ringing a bell??” It was Hunk’s voice, and it was ramping up with each question, until he was practically yelling in panic.

Both Lance and Keith, wide awake now, leapt to their feet and began to pull on clothing and stuffing textbooks into bags. Lance wrenched open the door to see Hunk shifting back and forth from one foot to the other, looking petrified. “Thank God!”

“You should have gone without us!” Lance said in a rushed voice, holding the door for Keith before closing and locking it. 

“No way, man. I need you there for emotional support! I am on the verge of tears here, Lance.”

The three of them sprinted to the gymnasium where the midterms were being held, making it just in time. Lance’s brain went straight to focus mode, which was impressive for him, but he had no time to boast before the supervising faculty member told them to turn over their pages and begin the test. Admittedly, Lance would have done poorly on this test if he hadn’t have studied with the others. He was going to also have to admit, at some point in the future, that Keith was a big part of that accomplishment. 

He couldn’t think about Keith now. If he did, his brain power would be taken up by trying to figure out how and why he had slept with him last night. And then he would have to look up from his exam paper to the spot three rows up where Keith was sitting, hunched over his own desk. Finally he would round out his inattention by recalling the feeling of their bodies pressed comfortably together.

Nope, those thoughts were not necessary right now. Not when 30% of his grade was sitting in front of him.

At least this was their last midterm for the semester, which meant they could relax that weekend before plowing on through the last month of classes and facing another slew of exams. It was exhausting to think that they still had another two and a half years left before they graduated. 

Lance finished the exam with 5 minutes to spare, but was far from the last person sitting in the room. At least everyone else in the program seemed to be struggling as much as he was. Keith wasn’t there, and Lance found him waiting outside the gymnasium. He leaned on a planter, arms wrapped around himself because in their rush that morning he hadn’t put on a coat and it wasn’t exactly warm out.

“How did you do?” he asked Lance straight away. “I wasn’t sure about section 3 but the prof will probably accept my math.”

“Section 3?” Lance sputtered. “How about the whole fucking thing? I think that exam was worse than Circuits.” Keith looked a little concerned so he added: “I’m pretty sure I passed, though.”

Hunk joined them a minute later, looking nervous. “I finished too early so I stayed to go over my answers, which is such a terrible idea because then you start to question your initial responses. And then I found something I got completely wrong in Section 3 and I thought I would start to cry on the spot.”

“But you didn’t,” Lance said with a pat on the big guy’s shoulder. “I’m proud of you buddy. I think you deserve a burrito.”

“Me too,” Hunk said, looking like he might in fact cry from happiness. “And not those pathetic little ones-- I want a _jumbo_ one, and I don’t care if it costs extra: I’m getting guacamole because I deserve it.”

“Where’s Pidge?” Keith said, looking around. “I didn’t see them in the exam.”

Hunk frowned slightly. “They finished in the first hour and probably took off. I’ll text them. There’s an all-ages at the campus pub tonight-- we’re going, right?”

Lance grinned, because it had been ages since he felt free enough to party. “Heck yeah! Keith, you’re in, right?”

Keith looked a little uncomfortable, which made Lance want to insist. 

“Come on, buddy. We’ll take care of your drunk ass.”

“I’m not getting drunk, Lance,” Keith said with a stubborn look as he adjusted the strap on his shoulder and started to walk towards the cafeteria.

“But we’re going, right?” Lance said, grinning as he began to follow with Hunk. “It’s party-time, right?” 

“Whatever.”

It was indeed party time. They started out in Hunk’s single room where Pidge produced a bottle of vodka that they insisted they all deserved. They toasted themselves for surviving the first half of the term and even Keith took a shot. He grimaced as much as any of them, but Lance noted that he did not go in for another one.

Three shots in and Lance was ready to roll. He couldn’t sit down-- he was too pumped from the lack of responsibility and the prospect of letting loose. He cranked the music, threw a ball against the wall, laid upside down from the bed and eventually settled on prodding Keith as much as possible.

In fact, he was having a hard time leaving Keith alone at all. It was far too much fun annoying him, be it from patting his hair or inserting his name into lame songs or tossing random objects at him. The others laughed, because in the end they were all getting a little tipsy and over energetic.

They left shortly thereafter, making the short trip to the campus pub with as much dignity as possible, since they were not likely to be admitted if anyone thought they were drunk. The air was cool and the sky already dark from the early sunset. Lance fell into step beside his roommate and couldn’t help grinning at him. “Sick of me yet?”

“Always, Lance,” Keith said, but a small smile escaped his lips. In truth, Lance was relieved that Keith wasn’t too annoyed with him. He couldn’t risk losing their book time, even if it meant that sometimes they were going to fall asleep together.

 _Especially_ if it meant they got to fall asleep together.

Now _there_ was a new concept.

Lance didn't have time to reflect on his own musings because they were at the campus pub, a plain stone building with even fewer windows than the other campus monoliths. Wooden letters spelled out the words ‘The Green Door’. True to it's name, a neon green door stood ajar with a bouncer guarding it like a dragon before its hoard. 

Lance produced a (fake) ID with a flourish, which the bouncer scrutinized just long enough to make Lance nervous before going over the others.

“You ALL have fake IDs?!” Keith asked in a surprised whisper once they were all inside. The bouncer had given him a large X on his hand with a permanent marker to denote him underaged.

“You best not blab to the RA,” Pidge said threateningly. “I already have 2 strikes this term and I haven’t managed to wipe the system yet.”

“What the hell did you do to get the first two strikes?” Hunk asked, as if misbehaving in college was the worst thing a person could do.

“I’ll tell you when you’re older.”

The campus pub wasn’t a pretty place, and barely functioned as a bar-slash-club for students to gather in. The front foyer served mostly as a lineup for the coat check and the rest of the building was a big open room with a handful of round wooden tables and a bar on one wall. The ‘dance floor’, such as it was, was big and empty with a bored-looking DJ standing in front of a mixer and laptop. Most of the occupants were surrounding the tables or walls, with a few clusters of friends standing intermittently. The lights had been turned down low and the music was already pulsing. It smelled like stale beer and musty wood. Lance breathed it in and smiled.

“Ah, the Green Door,” he said with his hands on his hips. “You make even a hole in the wall look good.”

“You love it,” Pidge said, elbowing past Lance to the bar.

Lance felt a little tug at his elbow, and he glanced back to see Keith looking entirely uncomfortable, but not in the adorable way that made Lance want to pester him. More in the ‘I want to go home’ kind of way. 

“Don’t abandon me,” he said sullenly, or as best he could while speaking loudly over the music and chatter. “I don’t know anyone here.”

Lance had a hundred smarmy remarks poised on his tongue, each witty and charming and alcohol-infused. But Keith was serious and the earnestness of his plight was making him look away in embarrassment. Lance felt his heart soften and in the relative privacy of that moment when Hunk and Pidge were away ordering drinks, he remembered the scene he woke up to that morning.

“You couldn’t shake me if you tried,” he said with forced confidence. He suddenly remembered that Keith’s hair had smelled like apples. “You’ll regret it by the end, trust me.” He had fit so _perfectly_ in his arms. “I’ll be looking for a new roommate by tomorrow.”

Keith looked up and narrowed his eyes suspiciously at Lance. “How drunk are you?”

“Not nearly drunk enough,” Lance decided, turning and making a resolute bee-line for the bar.


	7. Chapter 7

Keith’s eyes flitted around the bar nervously, watching the other students as they talked and danced. Every so often his eyes would fall across the table on Lance, talking animatedly to a girl from their program. Keith was trying resolutely not to look to his right, where a head of glossy red hair bounced unnaturally.

“I mean, I was top in my English class, so these essays are _easy_ ,” the owner of the hair was saying. She didn’t seem to mind that Keith wasn’t watching her or making an indication that he was listening. “Honestly, first year is a joke.”

“Mm-hmm,” Keith said, which was probably lost in the din of the bar.

“Tell me about engineering,” the girl said. Her name was Becka and she lived on the third floor across from Lance and Keith. He had very few conversations with her since moving in, which wasn’t uncommon for him. She found it appalling and insisted that they ‘get to know each other’.

“Engineering is… hard. I guess.”

“I bet. You guys are always so busy. It sucks-- we really need to hang out more!” She put her hand on his arm and he was forced to finally look at her. He supposed that she was pretty, in a freckled sort of way. She was positively _beaming_ at him. He apparently looked at her a fraction of a second too long, because her expression changed suddenly. “Seriously, Keith,” she said with awe in her voice. “You are too cute. You just need to get these bangs out of your face.” She reached out and brushed his fringe back carefully, flattening the hair onto the top of his head. He flinched instinctively, but stopped himself from knocking away her hand. 

“Keith,” Lance’s voice made them both look across the table. Lance was frowning, but the expression melted away almost instantly. “Buddddyyyy. We need to get you a drink. You’re too sober by half.”

Keith furrowed his brows slightly, but before he could protest, Lance was hooking his arm and dragging him away from the table. “L-Lance!” he said, trying not to stumble across the sticky floor. “I’m not drinking.”

“Well I am!” Lance said in a goofy tone. He was drunk, and somehow was the most coherent drunk Keith had ever met. There was no stopping the fountain of smarmy shit flowing from his brain to his mouth. “God, what a night, right? What a NIGHT.”

Lance stopped to high five a random stranger and Keith was given the opportunity to disentangle himself. Then the drunk was off again, striding to the exit. Keith struggled to get their coats from the coat check on the way. When he found Lance again, he was lying like a starfish on the pavement.

“Get up, you idiot!” Keith hissed, his eyes darting around the night, watchful for campus security.

Lance laughed and jumped to his feet far too quick for his level of sobriety. “Keith, this is amazing!” he said with breathless glee. “We’re young and healthy and FREE and life is fucking AMAZING.” He grasped Keith by the shoulders and grinned at him. Then, without warning, he took off at a sprint.

“Lance!” Keith said, but he felt himself wanting to laugh. A part of Lance’s unbound enthusiasm was rubbing off on him and he felt a surge of adrenaline as he ran after his roommate. “Take your stupid coat!”

He rounded a corner and Lance was there, waiting to ambush him. Laughing like a madman he tackled Keith, grabbing him around the middle and almost making him fall. “Leggo!” Keith protested but he was laughing, too. Lance released him, ruffled his hair violently, and took off again. “You jerk!”

And he was chasing him again, across the big open quad by the dorm. Halfway to the building Lance did a deliberate roll that landed him on his back on the grass. “Never knew I could feeeel like this!” he began to sing, and the sound traveled around the quad alarmingly clear. 

Keith tossed the coat on Lance’s face, muffling him and making him squawk. “You are such a _child_ ,” Keith said with a smile, and he sat heavily beside his roommate. The grass was cold underneath.

Lance was peering at him over the top of his coat in a way that made Keith slightly nervous. “And you have a _mullet_ ,” he countered. He struggled with his coat then, rifling through pockets until he produced a rubber band. “Here, sit still.”

“Nope!” Keith said, realizing too late what the drunk was planning next. He rolled away but Lance’s reflexes were surprisingly good. He pinned Keith down, clambering on top of him. Lance was breathless with laughter and Keith wanted to protest, except he was too busy laughing too. His stomach hurt as he wrestled for dominance over his own hands. Lance was trying to pin them down.

He did, finally and Keith let himself finish laughing, his chest heaving from the effort of wrestling. He could feel Lance’s whole body seizing from his own, silent fits of mirth. Finally he took in a deep breath and smiled down at his prey.

“L-Lance,” Keith struggled to say as the giggles still had yet to fully subside. “Get off! I can hardly breath.”

The way Lance was grinning looked almost maniacal and Keith could tell he had diabolical plans. He leaned in close, so that Keith was afraid he was going to spit on him or headbutt him or something else unpleasant. He braced for it, and was met with a kiss on the lips instead. All of the breath went out of him.

Just as suddenly, Lance leapt off of him and ran away cackling. Keith sat up stunned, watching Lance leap and frolic towards the dorm, back to singing loudly and poorly. He scrambled to his feet, scooped up the two coats and followed after.

By the time Keith caught up to Lance, they were in the room and Lance was throwing himself onto the bed. “READ TO ME,” he demanded without even taking off his jeans.

Keith wanted to laugh again, but he was too busy trying not to feel a bit too flustered from the entire evening. He picked up the book, the fourth in the series, and looked back to Lance. He was already asleep, his arm hanging limp over the side of the bed. Keith watched him for a moment, his heart beating a little too fast, before crawling into his own bed and sleeping poorly.

\--------------------

“Keeeeeeith.”

Keith opened his eyes blearily and stared at the uneven white wall next to his bed. There was a rustle from the next bed over and he rolled to look at his roommate.

“Keeeeeith, I think I’m dying.” Lance was shirtless, somehow, tangled in blankets and sheets with his hands on his face.

“What is it this time?”

Lance lowered his hands and looked at Keith with bloodshot eyes. He was pouting horrendously. “Uhhhggg…” he groaned. “If I don’t die soon can you just kill me?”

Keith rolled his eyes and sat up in bed. He didn’t feel great himself, but that was just from lack of sleep. He was grateful he didn’t drink the night before. At least drinking would have made his memory less clear.

“I’m not a murderer, Lance.” He got up to go the bathroom and when he returned, Lance’s top half was off of the bed, his face smushed into the floor.

“Keeeeeeith.” 

“Oh my God, dude. You need to suck it up.”

“I need McDonalds, Keith. Get me McDonalds.”

“No,” Keith said with a ‘tsk’. “I’m going to the library to study. You are not deserving of my sympathy.” Lance started to whimper and Keith let a smile spread over his face as he pulled on his hoodie.

“Why do you hate me?”

Keith sighed. “How many times do we have to go over this: I don’t hate you, I just think you are pathetic and annoying. It isn’t the same.”

Lance opened his eyes and gave Keith the biggest puppy dog eyes that he had ever seen from someone half melted into the ground. “Is that true?”

Keith walked over and knelt beside Lance’s fallen body. He resisted an urge to ruffle his short brown hair and settled for poking him in the cheek. “What do you think?” Lance struggled to push himself up on his elbows and look at Keith with level eyes. He was too serious and Keith felt a flush creeping up his neck. “If I thought you were annoying I would have switched rooms by now,” Keith said quickly, standing up. “But you are pathetic. Go back to sleep. I’ll bring you something from the caf.”

“You’re the best,” Lance said as Keith turned away and left the room.

Keith hid in the library for the better part of the day. It was almost empty, but for a few keeners who prepared for classes to continue on Monday. He didn't really need to study but he wasn't ready to be trapped in the room with Lance all day. 

The problem was that Keith-- Keith the loner, the unfriendly, and the stubborn-- wanted to have one of those awkward serious conversations that he had heard so much about. The ones where you ask the other person what they are thinking, and feelings are divulged and everyone is painfully honest. He wanted to sit Lance down and ask him, first of all, if he remembered anything from last night and if he did…

Keith couldn't help the hot, suffocated feeling that settled over his chest and face. He saw Lance’s face hovering over him, smirking the way he always did. He could still feel the press of lips on his own and faint smell of beer on Lance’s breath.

If Lance remembered that, how could he be so casual? If he didn't, then Keith was going to have to work pretty hard to forget about it. And it wasn't going to be easy with Lance sleeping in the bed next to him and asking him to read him stories with those goddamn puppy dog eyes. It was making him feel uneasy and embarrassed, and he felt himself both wanting and not wanting to be in the same room as Lance. Like, all the time.

Nothing Keith studied that afternoon stuck in his brain, and the solitude did nothing but allow the thoughts to run rampant in his mind. He gave up and returned the dorm around dinner time, joining the others for the ‘chili’ being served by the cooks. Lance was there, laughing about his hangover and making no mention of the night before. Keith watched him and decided that Lance had no memory of getting home. So with a deep breath he started the process of forgetting that one, unremarkable kiss.


	8. Chapter 8

Lance was starting to seriously questing his decision to enroll in the engineering program. The week after midterms they were reminded by their professors that the finals were going to be longer, covering even more material as they worked to cram information into the student’s brains. Thus free time was given almost entirely over to studying, until Lance’s hands were numb and his eyes were blurry.

And yet they found time to read. Lance was terrified that Keith was done with the books-- his own studiousness overriding Lance’s selfish desires. But every night he was ready, book in hand and pajamas on. They kept it to a chapter a night, as a reward for finishing their school work. It was a comfortable routine that Lance found himself looking forward to in the rare moments of peace where he was allowed to daydream.

He was also terrified that Keith wanted to stop for another reason. Lance couldn’t rightly say _why_ he had kissed his roommate, besides the obvious reason of his being very drunk. He had acted on impulse, the same way he had intervened when Becka was flirting with Keith at the bar. It was the same impulse that he had when he wanted to rest his head on Keith’s arm when he read, or ruffle his hair when Keith was looking too stubborn. 

But if Keith was upset at him, he didn’t let it affect his willingness to indulge him. Occasionally Lance thought he caught his roommate looking uncomfortable or embarrassed, but the moment passed when they delved into the fantasy world. They lost themselves in the story, greeting characters who were familiar, like old friends.

And when they fell asleep together, increasingly as their workload mounted, Keith didn’t leave the bed until they woke up to Lance’s alarm.

Whatever confused feelings Lance was harbouring, he could not deny the contentment he felt those nights. As November dawned, the air grew colder until frost graced the ground and the old radiators clanked and popped in protest. It was so warm lying together on those rare nights, with noses buried into backs and fingers laced loosely together. Lance wanted to lose himself in that warmth, and embraced the giddy feeling that bubbled in his stomach. It was a feeling that was making it harder not to give in to his impulses.

In a surprising show of self reflection, Lance kept his hands away from Keith when they were around others. If he was confused about his desire to run his hands through Keith’s hair, then his friends would be downright flabbergasted. They were surprised enough that the two were getting along so well, considering their personalities.

And time alone was becoming less and less frequent. Not long after midterms Becka had started to show up in their room, occupying their free time with stories from the other side of college: the arts side. They indulged her, because honestly, it was nice not talking about circuitry or physics or algorithms for once. Lance remembered a simpler time when he wrote essays and debated philosophical points. Now it was all numbers and designs.

He was a little annoyed, admittedly, that the girl was showing a preference for Keith. She was unreserved in her flirting, and he wasn’t sure if it was because he was used to being the centre of attention, but it irked him when she did it. There was no point, really: anytime the girl got too close, Keith seemed to flinch and her flirting apparently fell on deaf ears.

She wasn’t the only one, either. Everyone else was taking note of Keith coming out of his shell, and despite his best efforts, he was starting to collect friends. He was greeting people on campus that even Lance didn’t know.

A small part of Lance wanted to protest. If Keith was popular, would he still want to be friends with Lance? Would he still want to eat together and read stupid fantasy books? Would they still take care of each other if they got too drunk?

If Keith was popular, would he find a girlfriend?

Lance thought about this last conundrum for longer than he cared to admit. He wanted to say that it was out of a jealous friendship that he had hatched himself and was afraid to allow to leave the nest. But there was something else there. Something that made him give in to his impulses. 

Lance felt himself growing more uneasy as the term went on, a combination of the workload and the unanswered questions he kept asking himself. And as finals grew nearer, he was growing more irritable, snapping at others and losing his patience with schoolwork. Two weeks before the end of semester and he was ready to set all of his textbooks aflame. Reading with Keith was all that calmed him down.

He was coming home one evening to the room like a labourer at the end of a shift. He dragged his feet up the creaky third floor steps after a long, painful afternoon of intense tutoring from Pidge. He still didn’t fully understand the concepts he was being taught but there was no use in continuing to pound it out through the night. Not when a headache was searing behind his eyes.

The door opened the moment he approached it and he nearly collided with someone exiting his room. He faced Becka, who was a head shorter than him and slight of form. He looked started, red-faced and rushed. “Sorry, Lance!” she said with a faint voice.

Lance mumbled something non-committal, which served to excuse her to slink back to her own room across the short hallway. He watched her go, eyes narrowed, suspicious of her reluctance to make small talk. He wanted to be grateful-- after all, he was exhausted and about the only person he thought he could handle seeing right now was Keith. But everything about her behaviour said she was guilty of something.

The lights were on in the room, despite how late it was. Sometimes Keith stayed up late to study, so Lance wasn’t surprised. He sidled into the room, letting the door close with a heavy snap and looked around to find his roommate sitting cross legged in the empty middle of their room.

“Hey,” Lance said in way of greeting.

Keith raised his eyes to Lance, looking perplexed. His hand was covering his mouth, as if he was recovering from a shock. “Uh, hey,” he said finally, his voice muffled slightly.

Lance dumped his bag by his desk. “What happened to you?” he asked, trying not to sound as concerned as he was. Everything about this night was setting off alarms in his head and he struggled to sound nonchalant.

Keith didn’t answer right away. He rubbed his hand over his mouth once and let the hand fall by his side. “Becka was here.”

“Yeah, I saw,” Lance said, almost feeling impatient. Keith was being strange and the longer it took to drag an explanation out of him, the more anxious he was feeling. “Did she punch you or something?”

Keith looked as though he struggled with something before saying: “She kissed me.”

Lance felt something lurch in his stomach. “She _what?_ ”

“It's-- not a big deal.”

“What do you mean ‘not a big deal’?” Lance said, not entirely sure why he felt so irritated. “Someone kisses you and you don't care?”

Keith looked slightly stunned by this comment, but recovered quickly to frown. “I mean: don't worry about it.”

“Jesus, Keith-- this happen to you a lot?”

Lance could see the irritation rising in Keith's face. “No, not _a lot_.”

“One more kiss is just lost in the pile, huh?”

“Don't be an asshole,” Keith said with feeling as he suddenly jerked to his feet. He turned away to busy with something on his desk. 

“ _Asshole?_ ” Lance echoed. He could feel the weeks of studying and poor sleep behind the emotions in his gut. He wanted to stop himself but the words were already tumbling out. “You’re one to talk!”

“Just shut up,” Keith snapped. He closed his laptop loudly to emphasize his frustration. 

Lance bit his tongue, holding back whatever feeble insult he was prepared to use. Instead he started to strip down, tossing his old shirt aside. “Whatever. I'm going to bed.”

The silence that stretched between them as they prepared to sleep was long and uncomfortable. Lance felt the anger lingering, long after he crawled into bed and turned out the lights.

Instead of reading that night, he lay in the darkness, trying to justify his frustration. He was angry that Keith called him an asshole, right? Not because of the girl? 

Lance rolled over and tried not to hate Becka and he fell into an uneasy sleep.


	9. Chapter 9

Keith flipped the textbook back five pages. Then he leafed through forward slowly. Then he went back one page before promptly slamming it shut and shoving it off the bed.

“Woah, buddy,” said Pidge, who was sitting on the ground and flinched as though nearly hit with the textbook. “Don’t trust the book, man. Just listen to what we’re saying.”

“But it doesn’t make _sense_ ,” Keith snapped, failing, not for the first time this week, to contain his frustration. “I need to see it written down.”

“We should use the whiteboard in the library,” Hunk suggested, ever trying to put out the emotional fires. Keith, who was seething with hatred for textbooks and studying in general, was going to be hard to _put out_.

“I refuse to turn into the tutor for every single idiot in the program,” Pidge said with a scowl that almost matched Keith’s. “I show up at the library and they _swarm_ me. Two idiots are enough for me. Speaking of which, where’s Lance?”

The name ‘Lance’ was enough to quell the anger that rose when Keith was called an ‘idiot’. He rarely got frustrated with these people, but lack of sleep and an abundance of stress was making it hard to contain himself. The only thing that really cowed him was mention of his roommate.

He had not spent any time with Lance for over a week. They shared a room, sure, but they both found excuses to leave as soon as they woke up and come back as late as possible. Keith hardly had to make an effort in this way-- Lance seemed eager to avoid his roommate. He didn’t join them for studying and went to bed at an unreasonably early hour.

They had not read together in all that time.

“He’s probably one of those idiots in the library,” Keith said in a low tone, meaning to sound scathing but coming off as sullen. Whenever he tried to rile up a hatred for Lance he found that a bubble of melancholy blossomed and crept up his throat, making his chest hurt. 

It was a feeling of loss, he realized. He could feel the lack of warmth beside him at night and looking at the book they had been reading-- only 4 chapters from the end-- filled him with a deep longing. He knew what happened in those last 4 chapters and he could even read them himself if he wanted, but it wasn’t the same. He wanted to lie with Lance on his little bed and listen to him make up stupid voices for the characters. Then he wanted to read the last few chapters to Lance and feel his head rest on his arm.

He was done trying to figure out what it all meant. It didn’t matter-- he had finally found a comfortable place to lay his head and now that he wasn’t welcome there, he was tired, cranky and heartbroken.

“Alright, let’s take a break,” Pidge said, sounding almost as annoyed as Keith. Though they were easily the smartest engineer in the program, Pidge still found a way to stay up too late at night and stress about the workload. You could see it in their eyes when they removed their glasses to rub them. They jumped up then, stretching their arms over their head and grabbing a coat. “I’ll sneak something from the caf. Any requests?”

“Something warm,” Hunk said, fingering the bag of chips they had almost demolished. “And healthy.”

“Anything for me,” Keith said without much feeling. He wasn’t really hungry and he was trying to focus on the problem in his notebook again. Pidge made a quick goodbye and left Hunk’s room with a flourish.

A silence settled over the room that Keith did not notice until Hunk broke it. “Hey, Keith.” Keith raised his head, trying not to frown at Hunk, who was wearing a look of paternal worry. “What’s up between you and Lance?”

Keith felt his insides writhe uncomfortably. He wanted to look away, but he was lost in Hunk’s big brown eyes. “Nothing,” he said, but his voice was faint and he knew the lie was unbelievable.

“It’s just that you guys were finally getting along so well,” Hunk said, relentless in his earnest assault. Keith wanted to hate him for being nosey, but no one could ever hate Hunk. “And I know something’s wrong with Lance. I’ve known that guy _forever_.”

Keith pressed his lips together and looked back at his notebook. He wouldn’t even know how to begin explaining himself. He had never been terribly good at talking.

Luckily, Hunk had the ability to talk like the calmest, friendliest counselor you had ever met. Keith both wanted and didn’t want him to keep prying. On the one hand, Hunk was gentle and easy to talk to and part of Keith wanted to open up to him. On the other hand, Keith was terrified at how much information he was going to get out of him.

“Did you guys have a fight?”

 _Was_ it a fight? Keith wasn’t sure himself-- that night when Becka had kissed him, and Keith had told Lance-- that was definitely a catalyst for something. Lance had been unreasonably angry about the whole thing, to the point that Keith felt himself getting frustrated as well. But the next morning Keith had deflated, only to find Lance distant and unwilling to talk. 

Watching Lance unable to look Keith in the face, and answering his questions with short, non-committal replies were enough to squeeze at Keith’s heart. When he had rejected Keith’s offer to read a chapter from their book, it was like someone had taken the bottom out of his stomach. 

Keith wasn’t angry with Lance. He was irritable and stressed with school, yes, but with Lance he felt only the tug of longing. He wanted to see him laugh again. He wanted to talk to him about the characters in the Belgariad. He wanted to fall asleep in his arms.

Hunk was removing himself from his computer chair and he sat down heavily on the bed beside Keith. “Is it about a girl?”

Keith wanted to laugh, because technically a girl _was_ involved. “It’s not what you think,” he said with a sigh.

“So you are Becka aren’t---?” 

Keith snapped his eyes over to Hunk, searching his face for answers. “How do you know about that?”

Hunk feigned a look of innocence and leaned back on his hands. “Well, are you?”

“ _No_ ,” Keith snapped, feeling the colour rise in his cheeks. “We never were. We never _will_.” He watched Hunk’s face grow relieved and tried to read between the lines. “Did Lance talk to you? Does he…” Keith paused. “Does he like her?”

Hunk looked pensively at the ceiling. “I don’t know, actually. He was pretty annoyed about the kiss, but he never really said why. I mean, he’s not that hard to read. He wears his heart on his sleeve.”

Keith wanted the revelation to make him feel better, but the pit in his stomach seemed to be growing. Suddenly he was eager for whatever insight Hunk could give him. “What did he say to you? Did he say why he was mad?”

Hunk shook his head. “Keith, I think you need to talk to him. I can analyze Lance all day but in the end only he can tell you what’s really in his head.”

Keith felt a rush of frustration that gave way almost instantly to acceptance and then to a sudden bubble of anxiety. “I don’t think he wants to talk to me.”

Hunk sighed heavily from his place beside Keith. “That’s what he said to me, dude.”

Keith looked over carefully. “Are you supposed to be telling me that?”

“Nope, and he’d kill me if he knew we had this conversation at all. Which is why I am done and you are on your own from here on. _Talk to him_ , man. He’s your roommate. You have to live with him for a whole second semester.”

 _Unless I move out,_ Keith thought with sudden realization. But Pidge was back at that moment and studying took precedence over the turmoil in his mind.


	10. Chapter 10

Well, this was it. Lance was about to flunk out of engineering on his second year. He’d look back someday and say that at least he tried. He had a good run: he managed to pull through with decent marks in the first two semesters. He even thought he did alright on the midterms. 

But there was no climbing this insurmountable pile of work. He had barely managed to punch out his labs for the semester and now he set to working on the study sheets that should be carrying him through the finals. No matter how determined he was to teach himself to understand every single equation and rule, he felt the information sliding out of his ears even as he sat staring at his pages of neatly written notes.

He had never felt so alone in a crowd as he did in the library. Every other desperate student on campus was there, each isolated by books or earbuds. Some of them seemed to have been there all weekend, not stopping to eat or sleep. Lance was not so strong-- he had to get up and walk every hour, stretching his legs, drinking coffee or finding snacks. Most of the time his breaks were forced by an inability to understand the work and by the end he was spending most of his time split between pacing or sitting with hi head slumped on the textbook.

It was in this situation that Keith found him. His pathetic groan was met with a short exhale, as if someone nearby was forcing a laugh. He sat up quickly, blinking as his vision went blotchy with dehydration and fatigue.

“Hard at work or--” Keith started.

“Don’t say it,” Lance said with mild irritation. He glared at the textbook because he wasn't really frustrated with Keith, after all. He wanted to say he still felt as angry as he had two weeks ago, when he had decided firmly to ignore Keith for the remainder of the semester. It was a resolve that had begun to wane almost immediately, bolstered only slightly whenever he saw Becka in the hallway.

A year ago Lance might have admitted, finally, that he simply jealous. After all, he was used to being the flirtatious one and the idea of someone as clammed up as Keith getting attention from girls was an insult. A year ago, he might have laughed it off shortly thereafter and turned into the most supportive wingman possible, because that was what friends were for.

This was different. This was _Keith_.

He was standing just beyond the end of the work table, clutching his shoulder bag almost awkwardly. And why not-- the whole situation was strange and painful and cluttered with long silences. They had barely exchanged ten words in two weeks, and here was Keith standing there like they were suddenly about to be best friends again. But they weren’t-- not if he kept chewing on his lip instead of saying whatever he was wanting to say.

“Vectors?” Keith ventured.

“Apparently,” Lance said, looking down at the textbook. It might have been Chinese poetry, for all he understood it.

“I just finished those study sheets,” Keith said, almost hesitantly. “Pidge finally explained Stokes’ theorem in a way that didn’t make me feel like an idiot. If you want…”

Lance couldn’t look at Keith. He was holding onto a stupid, stubborn pocket of ego that wasn’t letting him just get _over it_ , already. Why _couldn’t_ he get over it? Why couldn’t he have gotten over it a week and a half ago?

It was for the same reason he couldn’t look at Keith in the eye right now. For the same reason he was feeling a faint flush from sitting too close to him. It had nothing to do with ego at all. 

“I guess,” he said with as much ‘umph’ as he could muster. “It can’t be any worse than the damage I am doing to my own brain.”

“Self-inflicted brain damage-- nice.”

Lance forced himself not to laugh as he shuffled his chair sideways, making it shriek against the old wooden flooring. Keith was pulling up a chair to share a view of the textbook and Lance chanced a glance at him, taking in his pale face, red tinted on the cheeks and neck. He had bags under his eyes that matched Lance’s: a mark of honor for engineering students. He was as tired as the rest of them. Lance wondered how well he was sleeping.

It started slow. Keith’s voice was low and unsteady, as though he hadn’t been speaking for two weeks. It stumbled occasionally, stopping when Keith needed to clear his throat or gather his thoughts. Anxiety was laced through each sentence, regardless how dry the subject was. 

But as time went on, Keith seemed to become more confident. His voice was stronger and more sure, and he even let out a soft, breathy laugh anytime Lance sounded frustrated. “I can’t believe you’ve been trying to figure this shit out all afternoon,” he said with a shake of his head. 

Lance put out his lower lip in a pout. “It’s hard by yourself.” He had to admit he was starting to understand it now, and the pieces of information were starting to fit together into a big, mathematical puzzle. He wanted to cry with relief, but he was too busy pouting.

“You should have studied with us,” Keith said without taking his eyes off of Lance’s study sheet. He started to chew his lip again and it wasn’t hard to tell that his eyes had stopped moving across the page.

Lance felt it-- that last stubborn rock that was holding the dam together. As soon as it was chipped away, he was going to finally admit that he wasn’t as angry as he claimed to be. He was probably going to apologize, too, because in the back of his mind he knew he was being selfish. It was going to be a relief, really, when he finally came undone. The question now was what would be the breaking point.

Keith finally raised his eyes, and the look there was nothing that Lance expected. He looked like a dog who had been yelled at and was waiting to be called a ‘good boy’ again. His dark eyes raised once to Lance’s, held the gaze for a moment, and then dropped to his chest. “I should probably tell you--”

“Nope, no, me first,” Lance interjected, because those eyes had managed to completely do him in. Keith’s look of surprise wasn’t any less convincing. “I’ve been a jerk. There-- I’ve said it. I’ve been avoiding you and you really can’t ask me why, but I know it’s not been the smartest thing since we’re sorta living together, you know?” He was vaguely aware of sounding like a torrent of water. “No, that’s not the reason I’m apologizing! Ugh, I mean-- I got all confrontational which was uncool. That’s not what roommates are for: roommates are supposed to be supportive and shit. So, yeah. I support you.”

Keith had opened and closed his mouth several times during this cascade of confessed feelings. When Lance had finally stopped to breathe, he didn’t look any closer to being ready to speak. After a pregnant pause, he seemed to settle on something to say. “Support me?”

Lance frowned. Was he really going to have to have to spell it out? “You know: that whole thing with Becka.”

Keith’s expression went from confused to slightly incredulous. “ _What_ whole thing with Becka? Lance, you know we aren't together, right?”

Now it was Lance’s turn to look dumbfounded. “But she kissed you.”

Keith managed to look slightly embarrassed before turning away again. His voice was low. “Yeah, she did. Doesn't mean I asked her to.” He crossed his arms over his chest as a frown passed over his face. 

Why the hell did such a small revelation make Lance’s stomach burst into butterflies? He wanted to stop the grin from melting over his face. “Struck out, huh?”

Keith glared at him and suddenly Lance knew that everything was right again. He reached out and ruffled Keith's black hair until he squirmed away in protest. Something heavy had been removed from the air and the library didn’t seem nearly as suffocating as it had earlier. Still smiling, Lance turned back to his textbook.

“Alright, let’s pass this shit.”

And they did-- so far as Lance could tell. At least, he put answers into all the little spots on the exam paper, and sometimes even on the back, too. 

He left the last exam as snow was starting to settle over the campus, blanketing the buildings and sidewalks. It made them all stop in awe, standing in silence as every student took a collective breath and felt a moment of peace fall over them.

Snow meant winter, which meant Christmas break. Lance was due back with his family in two days, taking the long flight south to where there would be no snow at all. He was looking forward to the break, one where he might actually relax. Sure, he would have siblings and cousins crawling all over him, but he wouldn’t have to think about calculations or equations until the spring.

The evening before the flight he enjoyed a dinner out with Hunk, Pidge and Keith, before they all turned in early, having their own flights to catch in the morning. 

Lance was content by the time he finished packing and lay down on his bed. He tucked his hands behind his head and grinned at the ceiling, feeling the last of his stress melt away, leaving quiet comfort. A shuffle of movement suggested that Keith had sat down on his own bed and he decided to favour him with a smile. He was sitting as though not quite comfortable, taking turns looking at Lance then looking away because he was never very good at holding eye contact. It made Lance want to leap up and join him on the other bed, making him as uncomfortable as possible. But he refrained.

“Uh, you’re leaving tomorrow,” Keith started, and Lance realized his discomfort was probably because he wanted to say something. He could tell he was struggling, but far from helping, Lance watched him fluster. It was adorable.

“Yepp,” was all he supplied. 

“I just thought--” He paused to wet his lips. “Maybe we could finish the last book? There’s only a couple chapters and I guess you could borrow it for your flight. I just thought I might like to read it too, so…” Lance waited, loving how the subject seemed to be making Keith blush. “I mean, I can sit over here and read. Or you can.”

Lance breathed a chuckle and sat up to shimmy under the covers. It was _cold_ tonight. “Come here, you dummy,” he said fondly, patting the place beside him. The gesture was apparently too much for Keith, who’s face dissolved into a strange mixture of grief and happiness that could only be interpreted as grateful. 

“Seriously, if you start to cry--”

“Shut up,” Keith snapped. He stood up resolutely and snatched the book from where it had sat forgotten for the past two weeks. Then he settled in his usual spot, filling the emptiness that Lance hadn’t realized was there. The last thread of stress and worry finally left him and he actually sighed with relief as he tilted his head to rest on Keith’s arm.

It didn’t take long for the story to end. It wasn’t a long series to begin with and they ate through chapters with ease. The conclusion was satisfying, albeit predictable. After it was over Keith lowered himself so they were lying side by side, looking up at the dark ceiling as they discussed the books and characters. Lance had wild speculations which Keith kept mum about, which was later revealed to be because there was apparently several more books to be read. 

“Another _series_ ,” Lance said with awe.

“And a bunch of stand-alone books. The authors really fleshed out the world.”

“We _have_ to read them when I get back.” Lance wondered for a moment how he was going to keep himself from sneaking the books from the library, but decided he didn’t want to read them alone. He turned his head to look at Keith, feeling a warmth and giddiness rise in his stomach when he did so. No, he wanted to read with _Keith_.

“How long are you staying home?” Keith ventured.

“Probably until New Years. Though, Hunk wants to have a party, so maybe I’ll come back early?”

“You should,” Keith said faintly, and Lance was forced to look over at him. In the light of the single lamp, he might have held any expression. He did not return the look and instead plowed on. “I mean, you should stay with your family. Assuming that’s who you are going home to.”

Lance looked away again, his heart beating a little faster from the strange admission. “Yeah. The whole lot of them-- my cousins, too, because Christmas is this big fiasco. Lots of church and food and being yelled at by way too many elders.” 

“Sounds nice.”

“It’s both terrible and wonderful. I love them, I do, but they can be a bit extra. Especially when there are so many of us in one place. Family can be like that, you know?”

Keith made a noncommittal noise which made Lance search his face again. He was frowning slightly, and Lance suppressed the urge to reach over and give his face a gentle touch.

“Will you be going home?” He wondered if it was the wrong thing to ask, because Keith’s brows upturned worryingly. But he turned his head for the first time, and Lance found himself looking into his dark eyes.

“I might see my dad,” he said in a low voice. He hesitated then and Lance thought about changing the subject. Clearly it wasn't something Keith was comfortable talking about. But then Keith turned away and took a steadying breath and Lance knew to give him this. “I took last year off to look for my mom.”

To say this statement was unexpected would be to say Lance had any expectations in the first place. He waited quietly for more, putting his own questions aside for now. A soft, sad feeling was rising in his chest. 

“I never knew her and dad has no idea where she was, so it was hard. I started in Korea and followed leads to Canada and the US. I probably visited 37 states in the end.”

There was a pause before Lance had to ask. “Did you find her?”

Lance almost regretted the question instantly. Keith's face crumpled into a pained grimace, his jaw working and eyes fluttering. Instinctively and without hesitation Lance reached out and cupped Keith's far cheek. It made him release a dry sob.

“It’s OK, buddy,” Lance said soothingly. Then, after seeing Keith calm down slightly he added. “I'll be your mom.”

Keith’s laugh sounded accidental and seemed to catch him off guard. “God help me,” he said with a roll of his eyes that twinkled with unshed tears. “That sounds terrifying.”

“Then I'll be whatever you want. Grandfather, sensei, old drinking buddy, whatever.” He settled his hand on Keith’s chest, feeling the uneven rise and fall of his breath. 

“Whatever I want?”

“Except a slave, maybe, or a dog. I won't be anything subservient.”

Keith laughed again and rubbed at his eyes to remove the last of the emotions hidden there. Then he dropped his hand to lace fingers with Lance, making the latter flush with pleasure. “How about we sleep on it?”

Lance hesitated before pulling his hand away and reaching over Keith to turn off the lamp. Then, with his heart beating impossibly hard, he settled in beside him with an arm over his torso and his face close enough that he could smell the apple in his hair.

“‘Night,” Keith murmured weakly.

“‘Night, buddy,” Lance returned in a whisper.


	11. Chapter 11

Lance was gone in the morning. Keith woke shivering, the heat not nearly high enough to make up for the lack of warm bodies in the bed. He forced his eyes open to take in the dimly lit room. The spot where Lance’s suitcase had been was empty and his coat wasn’t slumped over the back of the computer chair as it usually was.

He pushed himself up, ignoring the waves of goosebumps that wracked his exposed arms and neck. The room was quiet and the light from the single window filled the room with a cool, pale colour. There was frost on the window.

Keith felt a pressure on his chest and put a hand over his heart. His eyes fell on the last book of the _Belgariad_ , discarded last night after the last chapter. Drowsiness was slowly giving way to new feelings as he let the lingering memories of last night fill his mind. 

There were two major emotions, so far as he could tell. The first was loneliness: for the first time in months, he was truly alone in the room. After a year of being by himself, he was shocked at how used he was to the noise and constant companionship of a roommate who never really did shut up. Going from two extremes-- being with Lance, and being without-- was shocking and he couldn’t believe how much it bothered him.

The second feeling was not so easy to unravel. He spent some time in the shower, getting dressed and making his way slowly to the nearly-empty cafeteria thinking it over. It was something that had been building slowly; a feeling that had started as a warm friendliness. It wasn’t until two weeks ago, when Lance had started to ignore him, that Keith finally started to realize that his feelings for the guy were way beyond friendliness. 

He was about halfway through his porridge when he recognized them for what they were, and he nearly lost his spoon in the bowl. He had to fish the utensil out of the warm mess with his fingers, getting himself and his tray sticky in the process. He sucked the oats off of his fingers one by one as he tried to retrieve himself out of the warm mess that was his brain.

He had been falling for Lance for a lot longer than he realized. It probably started with the books but it wasn’t impossible that it had started even before then. Keith, who had never liked anyone before, was having trouble making any logic of the situation beyond the undoubtable feeling of ‘ _I want to be with this person right now and also forever_ ’. 

Once this epiphany had occurred, the rest of the day was a write off. Keith was walking into walls, dropping things and spending the most productive hours of the day staring into nothingness. He was waging an internal battle that he was both winning and losing-- on one side, he was determined not to think about Lance. He didn’t want to end up like some lovesick teenager, unable to think about anything but the object of his desire. The other side was a chaos of memories and emotions that no amount of logic could stop from imagining Lance’s stupid face while he laughed or smiled or looked longingly at Keith.

Keith was amazed at the extent of his own imagination, and was often reduced to burying his face in his hands as a wave of blushing washed over him. He had never felt like this before and it was both exciting and deeply troubling. He suddenly understood what all those lame love songs were about and how those gross couples managed to completely lose themselves in each other’s eyes.

The entire experience was embarrassing, to say the least. Keith was thoroughly disgusted with himself. 

But his desire to see Lance again was stronger than any sense of self-loathing. He couldn’t bring himself to think about anything else for very long because his eyes kept wandering to Lance’s empty bed.

The campus continued to empty until only a skeleton of students remained and most of the facilities closed. Only one cafeteria remained open on the far end of campus and the only staff that seemed to be around worked in the library, where Keith ended up spending most of his free time.

One of the last students to leave campus was Becka and Keith faced the inevitability of finally talking to her. They had shared one awkward conversation since that unwanted kiss, during which he managed to blurt out a formal rejection before fleeing the scene. He knew he owed her a better explanation, but was entirely out of water on how to go about explaining himself. The moment came when they met in the cafe. She had her suitcase with her as she waited in a short line for coffee. Keith approached her from behind and realized too late who she was.

“Keith!” she said with wide eyes when she turned to face him. “You’re still here?” 

Keith stammered a greeting before looking to the board to decide what he wanted to order, despite knowing what he wanted already.

She joined him at his table, too, and Keith felt his insides squirm uncomfortably. 

“My bus comes in a half an hour,” she said in explanation. “I thought we could talk.”

There was no point denying her, so Keith gestured to the empty chair. She sat down almost nervously, despite being the epitome of extrovert. “I wanted to say ‘sorry’,” she began. Keith immediately felt like a jerk and let out a small groan.

“No, Becka, you don’t have to.”

“No, I _do_ ,” she insisted. “I shouldn’t have been so full of myself. I sort of ignored the signs and went for it and I should have talked to you first before-- you know…”

Keith nodded quickly.

“I should have realized there was no chance,” she said with a small sigh. “That was sort of dumb of me. But I had no idea. You’re my first gay friend.”

Keith’s mouth suddenly went dry and he realized it was hanging open. He wanted to start sputtering a denial and questioning how she had come to that conclusion but he was too startled to form anything into words. 

“Ah, sorry!” Becka said with a subtle blush. “I shouldn’t be outing you like that.”

“You--” Keith finally said. “You think I’m gay?”

Becka blinked in surprise over the top of her coffee. “Aren’t you?”

Keith meant to say ‘no’ right away, but then his mind immediately went to Lance and he became quietly introspective. ‘Gay’ meant he liked men, right? It meant he didn’t like girls at all.

Keith looked at Becka and realized, with a start, that he had never liked _any_ girls. Not when he was at home with his dad or changing high schools every year or in his first year of college. His mind was usually pre-occupied with studies or finding his mom. Things like crushes were so far from his mind that he had never stopped to consider his own preferences.

“I think,” Becka was saying slowly. “I may have stepped on a landmine. I’m sorry. Again.” She bit her lip in worry. “Are you OK, Keith?”

Keith shook his head to clear the cobwebs, but found it did no good. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “I haven’t really thought about this before. This is… I don’t know.” He shook his head again. 

“Keith, if you need to talk to anyone about this,” Becka said. “I mean, I’m probably the last one you want to talk to right now. Fuck, I mean, I just put my foot straight down my own throat. I’m an idiot, but I can listen. Do you need anything?”

Keith needed a lot of things, but right now he needed to be alone. He looked into Becka’s green eyes and saw she was really, truly worried for him. He appreciated that, but he wasn’t sure he was fit to communicate with anyone right now. 

“You have a bus to catch,” he said finally. “I’ll be fine. Thanks for being honest.”

Becka stood up at the same time as him, looking no less worried. Keith decided to give her a smile, which she returned reluctantly.

“Friends?” he asked, offering a hand. She hesitated a moment, then pulled him into an awkward hug over the table. He just managed not to spill his coffee before returning it with one hand.

“See you in the new year!” she said almost tearfully before leaving Keith. He watched her roll her luggage down the sidewalk, making lines in the thin layer in snow.

Keith was almost regretted her absence because now the dorm was truly empty. And being alone with his thoughts was not the cleansing experience he hoped it would be. The problem was now that the idea was in his head, he couldn't get it out. A spiral of thoughts circled in his head, never really going anywhere: He liked Lance. Did that make him gay? Was he gay? Was that how he felt about his roommate? 

Keith decided to visit those fantasies he had been holding at bay since the winter break started and decided, at least, that he absolutely, without a doubt, liked Lance in that way. In all the ways. 

So he was gay. No big deal, right? 

Yes, it was a big fucking deal. And not just because it changed absolutely everything. 

Because what about Lance?

Lance was not gay. Lance, who flirted with girls with more ease than breathing. Lance, who was the very embodiment of male ego. Sure, he was down for the odd snuggle with a bro but he had family-- Co-sleeping was probably _normal_ for him. And Keith was sure that Lance was jealous over the whole Becka thing. Now that it was clear that she and Keith weren't an item it was probably only a matter of time before they got together. 

Keith's heart, which had only just began to soar, suddenly felt ground into the dirt. He was teetering on the edge of a cliff, and the pit below was dark and bottomless. Suddenly it was hard to breathe. 

That evening Keith received an email from Shiro. He was visiting family but hadn't forgotten about his promise to check in on Keith at the end of the semester. 

_A room has opened up in the Gzowski building. I emailed the Dean there and she agreed to a transfer at the same price._

_So if things are still not working out with Lance the place is yours. Just let me know and I'll set it up. You can move before the end of the break._

_I hope you have a good Christmas. Don't forget to call your dad!_

_Shiro_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm writing chapter 12 and listening to the Tragically Hip. Canadians will understand why this fills me with emotions. :(


	12. Chapter 12

Being with family was like getting new batteries at the store. They're found in the most boring aisle and the purchase fulfills nothing but necessity. And when it's over, you feel better, stronger, but you don’t appreciate the recharge for what it is. You don't ever enjoy getting new batteries, except for those rare moments during holidays when everyone is gathered in comfortable silence, full from dinner and hearts overflowing with warmth. 

Lance loved his family, he really did. He loved hearing about their lives and re-establishing bonds, but the time he needed to recharge was decreasing and was becoming only necessary after long periods away. It was probably a sign of growing up, no longer needing the coddling of parents and the friendship of siblings. He refused to believe that he would ever divorce himself completely from family time, but Lance was quite happy to spend two weeks with them before craving the privacy of college life. 

Besides, there was another sort of recharging he was in need of. He had spent the holidays in a happy haze, remembering the last night he had spent in his dorm room. Things had finally been settled with Keith, and they were back to the comfortable friendship that sometimes included a guilty indulgence of physical closeness that Lance didn’t need to unravel. He didn’t care what happened: so long as he could stay together with Keith, laughing and reading and learning, everything else would fall into place.

Though he was able to refrain himself from reading any of the Belgariad books over the break (he managed to locate them all at his local library), he couldn’t help himself from texting Keith about them several times. Of course, these were just excuses for conversation-- once the ice was broken, Lance lay on his old bed every night tapping out messages to his roommate.

_: I want to read Polgara next !!!_

_**: Next is the Mallorean dude**_

_: ug only if pol is there SHE IS MY SPIRIT ANIMAL_

_**: You dork. She’s pretty cool, but you need to read the books in sequence.**_

_: you mean YOU will read them because you do it better than me <3 <3_

_**: maybe**_

Lance had been pulled away after this text, forcing him to converse with his elderly great aunt instead of replying, and by the time he returned to his phone Keith wasn't replying and the moment gone. But it didn’t stop Lance from jamming out messages whenever he had the time, forcing Keith to respond eventually, whether he wanted to or not.

“Wow, Lance, you probably shouldn’t watch porn on your phone.”

Lance had been lying on his bed, his legs straight against his bedroom wall, when his sister Lisa had walked in. He clutched his phone close to his chest protectively and tilted his head back to look at her accusingly. “It’s not _porn_.”

“Then what’s with the goofy grin?” She was a year older than him, but liked to act like she had years of superior experience. She stood over him with a hand on her hip, and the other gripping her bag. 

“None of your business.”

“Well I know it’s not a girlfriend,” she said with a smirk. “Unless you are being catfished. Want me to tell you if you are?” She made a grab for his phone, but he rolled away to a kneel on the bed.

“Back off, witch!”

Lisa laughed, tossing her head of curly brown hair. “You just don’t want me to be right. What’s her name?”

“That still falls under the ‘not your business’ category,” Lance said stubbornly. “Aren’t you supposed to be going to the store with Abu?”

“She’s having a nap instead. Which means…”

“Ugh,” Lance groaned. “Get your license already! I’m embarrassed for you.”

“Get a girlfriend already, I’m embarrassed that you are being catfished.”

“ _I’m not being catfished!_ ”

“ _Prove it, bitch!_ ”

Lance shoved the phone in front of of his sister’s face. “Because it’s a _guy_ , you idiot!”

Lisa blinked once before a grin passed over her face. Lance retracted the phone suddenly and looked at it, hoping she hadn’t read anything to give her fuel. The last message was Lance whining about wanting to be back on campus already and Keith replying about how he was looking forward to seeing him again. OK, he had to admit that the last message was what had him grinning like dumbass, but surely this wasn’t too embarrassing.

“A guy, huh?” she said slowly, her hand back on her hip. “A _guy_?” She was wiggling her eyebrows in the most annoying way possible, and Lance wanted to throw his phone at her.

“Yeah, what’s your point?”

“Lance, if this is the same person you’ve been texting for the entire holidays, then this isn’t just a guy.” She was smiling in that way that said she thought she was the smartest person in the world, and Lance hated it. 

“He’s my roommate,” he said slowly, realizing too late that this wasn’t a good enough excuse. She barked a laugh.

“Oh, that’s even _better_!” 

“What the hell are you talking about?” Lance said, hating that knowing look in her eye. He looked at the texts again. The person he had dubbed ‘Keefer’ in his contacts was working on a new message. 

_: i’m looking forward to seeing you too buddy :))_

_**: Ahaha, wow Lance. I’m not sure what to say to that.**_

Lance was dimly aware of his sister watching him as he replied, but he was too focused on the message.

_: whats wrong with what i said?? didnt you say you wanted to see me too??_

“Ugh, this is _painful_ ,” Lisa said with an exaggerated roll of her eyes. Lance ignored her.

_**: Did I?**_

_**: Shit, I did.**_

_: do you have amnesia or something_

_**: Ug sorry. My brain’s mangled these days.**_

_: buddy :( ill take care of you just wait for me_

“ _Lance_!” Lisa had both of her hands on her hips this time, which meant she was serious now, and Lance was in for a world of hurt. He turned off his phone and gave her a glower that did nothing to quell her impatience. “We need potatoes! Tell your boyfriend that you have family obligations.”

“He’s not my boyfriend!” Lance said, standing up from the bed. _He’s just a guy who I really like to snuggle with,_ he thought, not for the first time. _And who I like the smell of. And who I don’t want to see with anyone else._

Yeah, _that_ was convincing.

By the time he and Lisa had finished the dinner shopping and Lance had put in his required family time it was late, and he fell back onto his unmade bed with exhaustion. His room was tiny but hadn’t changed much since he moved out two years ago. Posters still plastered the walls and his bookshelves were stacked double with comics and childhood books. 

Keith hadn’t replied since his last message, which normally would not have bothered Lance. He was used to being the one who flooded their thread with texts, but somehow Keith seemed off.

_: you still on campus?_

It was apparently the right thing to ask, because this time Keith replied right away. 

_**: Yeah. Practically the only one, though.**_

_: sounds lonely ! is becka gone too_

_**: She left not long after you. I saw her off and we talked. She was pretty chill about everything and knew there was nothing between us.**_

_: thank god haha_

_: shes not bad, you know? I might giver her a chance_

And why not? Lance’s initial dislike of her was founded on, what-- jealousy? It wasn’t fair to her and if she hadn’t have kissed Keith in the first place, they might have been friends. Now that was behind them, she deserved to be engulfed into their awkward circle of friends, even if she was an English major.

_**: Yeah I guess that makes sense.**_

_: so long as dont mind we could invite her to stuff…? Hunk might adopt her_

_**: Sure. I’m going to bed now. Talk to you later.**_

And that was all he heard from his roommate for the rest of the break. In the two days following Lance was busy with his final goodbyes, but he didn’t hesitate from continuing to pester Keith. When he did not reply, he wanted to assume it was because he was busy, too. Maybe he went to stay with his dad after all.

But as time dragged on, Lance was starting to worry. He scrolled back through the messages to see where he might have gone wrong, but nothing stood out. Then he wondered if something had been seriously wrong with Keith after all-- maybe he was sick.

Whatever the reason, Lance was increasingly desperate to get back on the plane to go to school. Everything would be better once he got back to his dorm room and saw Keith’s face. For all of his inability to talk, Keith still wore his heart on his sleeve. All Lance needed was to see him to know what was wrong.

The morning of his flight Lance woke up late and almost forgot his luggage. He yelled at his younger brother, making him cry and on the way out the door he managed to bang his head on the door frame that he swore never used to be that low.

The flight was delayed, despite all of his efforts to rush through security. He spilled his coffee on his pants and when he finally got on the plane he realized the seat he had chosen was in the middle of two rather wide passengers.

It was a long, painfully uncomfortable flight, and by the time they landed (badly-- he thought for terrifying 10 minutes that he was going to die) he was miserable. It was snowing when he dragged himself out of the airport. The streets and sidewalks were wet with the warm slush and Lance narrowly missed being splashed by a taxi that refused to stop for him.

It was almost midnight when he arrived on campus, wet and exhausted. The dorm was quiet-- it was not yet New Year’s and most of them hadn’t returned yet. He heard a few muffled voices from behind closed doors, but met no one in the halls. The faint musty smell of the stairs reminded him of home, and he tried to let it fill him with calm and comfort.

But Lance felt that something was _wrong_ , even before he entered his room. A sense of dread was filling his chest, due to something beyond exhaustion or hunger. 

The room was dark and quiet when he entered. “Keith?” he said quietly, just loud enough that he would wake his roommate, but not the whole dorm. When there was no reply, Lance dropped his things and strode over to his desk. He switched on the lamp and stared around the room.

Lance’s half of the room was still a disaster-- books and clothing randomly dispersed in piles. His bed was made, with a present laid carefully in the middle of it. He dragged his eyes away from the present to take in the other half of the room.

Keith’s bed was made up neatly. The bedside table, usually holding a cup of water, a phone charger, and a notebook, was empty but for the standard issue lamp. The desk was empty too, as was the floor and open closet. There was no clothing, or laptop, or textbooks.

There was no Keith.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GUYS LISTEN
> 
> I WAS GOING TO UPDATE AND THEN I WENT THE THE LIQUOR STORE AND THEN


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> can I just say that making you guys suffer is like lowkey my favourite thing

The door to the RA’s room was always open-- a policy that was meant to demonstrate a transparency and comfort-level with the other students. ‘Come on in’, was what it was meant to say. ‘I’m always ready to listen’.

It was definitely _not_ meant to say ‘please barge in at midnight and wake me up in the middle of the night during winter break’. 

It was all Lance could do not to slam Shiro’s door open with all of his might. All the energy he didn’t think he had on the flight was firing through his veins, making his heart beat furiously. He had taken the steps three at a time (nearly falling all the way down in the process) and ran down the hallway. Shiro’s room was on the first floor, at the end near the emergency exit and Lance didn’t even wait to knock before barging in.

“What! What’s happening?!” Shiro said as he swung his legs out of bed. He switched on the bedside lamp to illuminate the orderly room. “Lance?”

“Where is he?” Lance demanded at once. He had no room in his brain for even a casual greeting.

“What are you talking about?” Shiro asked, his eyes wide in alarm. “What’s wrong, Lance?”

“Keith!” Lance barked. He tried to ease his hands out of the tight fists they were balled into. His nails were starting to dig into his palms. “Where is he?!”

“Is he missing?” Shiro asked at once, throwing aside his blanket as if ready to leap out of bed. 

“ _Yes!_ ” Lance said with emphasis. “The room is _empty!_ ”

Shiro’s face froze and then slowly relaxed. He took a deep breath and ran two hands through his bedhead. “Oh,” he said in a quieter tone. “I guess he didn’t tell you.”

“Didn’t tell me _what_?” Lance said with a flare of impatience. “Did he drop out? Is he OK?”

Shiro took another breath and leaned forward on his knees. He was surprisingly put-together for someone who had just been woken up at midnight. “Lance, let’s talk about this in the morning.”

Lance choked on whatever rude thing he wanted to say and his fists were in balls again. “Damnit, Shiro,” he said with a hint of desperation. “Just tell me? What happened to Keith?”

“He moved to his own room,” Shiro supplied. “Since you guys weren’t exactly getting along.”

Lance opened his mouth and let it hang as he tried to sort out his own confusion. Had he so completely misjudged his relationship with Keith that he had overlooked the fact that the guy might have hated him?

No, there was no way. No one snuggles on that level with someone they hate. Right?

“Did he say that?” Lance said in a weaker voice. “Did he say he didn’t get along with me?”

Shiro looked uncomfortable as he shifted slightly where he sat. “Not in those words. Way back in September he wanted to move, but I told him to wait it out and see. I checked up on him over the break and he agreed to switching rooms.”

“Because he doesn’t want to live with me,” Lance finished, and the anxious energy seemed to flow right out of the bottom of his feet. He felt hollow. Was this why Keith hadn’t texted him in two days?

“He didn’t go into detail…” Shiro said slowly, as if he was trying to retroactively soften the blow. But it was too late, Lance was slumped into a slouch and he could feel a lump rising in his throat.

“Where is he now?” he managed to ask after forcibly swallowing that lump.

“I don’t think I should tell you that,” Shiro said, using his RA voice. “That’s personal information.”

“Fuck that,” Lance spat, unable to contain himself. “Tell me where he is or I’ll start knocking on doors.” He would, too. He would stay up all night if he had to.

“ _Lance_ ,” Shiro snapped in a tone that Lance had never heard before. It made him want to stand up straight and shut his mouth. “You’re being childish. If Keith needs space, then you have to give it to him. Go back to your room. Go to sleep and we’ll talk about it in the morning.”

Lance wanted to protest, but the look in Shiro’s eyes was so close to murder that he thought better of it. Despite the swirl of anguish and confusion and anger, Lance was deeply tired and somewhere a dry, logical voice was telling him just to go to sleep already. So he conceded and took a step back.

Lance must have let his feelings show on his face, because Shiro suddenly stood up. “Hey, seriously,” he said in a soft voice. “If you need to talk…”

Lance forced himself to smile and nod before leaving the room. He didn’t want to talk to anyone except Keith, and that apparently wasn’t an option anymore. He replayed all of their conversations and all of their messages, suddenly critical of everything he had ever said to him. He spent the slow walk back to his room coming to the conclusion that he was, after all, a pretty annoying person and probably impossible to live with. 

The bubble of self-loathing sat heavy in his stomach as Lance finally settled in the quiet room to sleep. The present sat, unopened and forgotten, on Keith’s empty bed.

\---------------------

Lance woke up to the buzzing of his phone, surviving off of 5% power like an unwatered plant. He took a moment to adjust to waking life, making no attempt to hold onto the strands of the painful dream that lingered in his brain. When he reached for his phone he saw that there was a new message, and his heart lept.

_ : WELCOME BACK BUDDY  
: ARE YOU COMING TO MY PARTY _

Lance tried not to feel disappointed to see Hunk’s name on the text, but he made no move to answer it right away. Instead he dragged himself out of bed to fish the charging cable from his bag. Then he plugged his phone in and sat back down on the bed.

The present was wrapped in Christmas wrapping paper-- red with little snowmen printed all over it. It was the size of a small rectangular box with no other real indication of what was inside. Lance watched it for a while, as though it might change, or he might work up the courage to actually open it. He didn’t, however, and eventually left to get breakfast instead.

Shiro was not in his room when Lance passed conveniently by before heading to the cafeteria. In fact, he wasn’t in the common room, either. Lance took a zigzag route to the caf, peering around corners and into windows in the off-chance of seeing him.

Or of seeing Keith.

Hunk managed to waylay him at the entrance of the cafeteria, gathering him into an enthusiastic bearhug that usually Lance would have been all about. But today the close contact caught him off guard. 

“Dude, Lance!” Hunk said, obviously noticing that the hug was not being returned. “You got jet lag, little buddy?”

Lance tried to wave him off and put on a trademark smirk, but it wasn’t sticking. Besides, Hunk had a way of unravelling him. He looked into the big guy’s eyes and tried to suppress the emotions that were clawing their way to his face. “Have you seen Keith?” he asked with a squeak in his voice that made him sound like a preteen.

“I saw him yesterday,” Hunk said slowly. “Wasn’t he in the room when you got back?”

Lance shook his head slowly and crunched up his face to keep the feelings at bay. If he kept talking to Hunk like this, out in the open, in front of the cafeteria entrance, he was going to go to pieces. So instead he linked arms with him and steered them both into the caf. A tug of a dull headache reminded Lance that he was probably jet lagged after all, and eating would do him a lot of good. He could leave the worrying for after he was fed.

The cafeteria was half full, the morning half gone and most students having returned from the holidays. There was a positive energy in the air as friends reunited and the pressure of classes had yet to mount. Lance sat opposite of his friend and tried to listen as he talked idly about his visit with his family. 

“Isn’t that Keith?” Hunk said halfway through their eggs, making Lance snap his attention to the window behind him. The cafeteria windows made up a wall facing the snowy quad beyond. There were several students walking past, on their way to the library and the cafe. His eyes darted from head to head until he caught sight of someone in a leather jacket and red toque who would only be Keith. He disappeared from sight almost the next moment.

Lance was on his feet, his meal forgotten as he rushed to the door. A group of girls stopped his chase for half a heartbeat and it was all he could do not to knock one of them over. When he finally burst into the cold air of the quad, he saw no sign of Keith. Nor did he see him up the path, between the next two buildings, or in the front halls of the library or lecture buildings. It was 20 minutes before he finally admitted defeat and made his way back to the dorm, feeling miserable.

There was only one thing left to do.

Lance took a breath in front of Shiro’s door. He straightened his coat and flattened his hair before raising his fist to knock politely on the door. 

“Come in,” Shiro called and Lance pushed the door open to see him sitting at his desk in front of an open laptop. He turned in his seat and his face fell slightly when he saw who it was. “Lance.”

“Heeey,” Lance started, trying to sound casual and failing. “Sorry about last night.”

“Apology accepted,” Shiro said, but he still didn’t smile. He had a way of looking like a disappointed older brother. Like, all of the time. “But if you think I’m going to tell you--”

“Just listen to me,” Lance interrupted, which he almost regretted. He plowed on before Shiro could drop the look of mild astonishment from his face. “I’m not mad at Keith. Honestly! I’m not going to punch him or anything. I just--” He paused to gather his thoughts. He knew he was going to have to be painfully honest to convince Shiro. “I thought we were getting along. Sure, at first we didn’t but… We got to be friends, I guess. More than friends. I thought we were close.”

 _Turns out I was wrong,_ Lance tried not to think.

“So I just want to talk to him. I want to know…”

_... Why he hates me now._

“I want to--”

_Tell him to come home._

“Urg.” All the tears that he had been holding back for the last 12 hours were now springing from his eyes, and when he blinked they were falling hot down his cheeks. Lance scrubbed at them furiously, hating himself even more in that moment than he thought he could.

A small sigh preceded the squeak of the chair as Shiro stood up. Lance felt a hand on his shoulder and it felt heavy and uncomfortable, reminding him that he was being pathetic.

“I just,” he managed, wiping away the stubborn tears. “I just want to talk to him.”

Shiro’s face was softening.

“Please, Shiro. Tell me where he is.”


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pls don't kill me, friends-- here is something to make up for last chapter.

Keith reread the sentence _‘Functions y = x2 and y = x4 have the same slope at x = 0; they touch but do not cross’_ four times before he finally conceded that he was not absorbing any the knowledge he was attempting to force into his brain. He closed the textbook on his lap and let his eyes wander to the window. He was on the second floor of the Gzowski building, which had a view of the river that ran along the edge of campus. It was a much nicer view than the dirty quad outside of his old dorm room.

In fact, everything about Gzowski was better. The building was almost brand new, all the rooms were single and each bathroom was only shared between two people. Everyone had a double bed and the heating was _perfect_.

Keith had never hated a room so much.

Everything about the solitude and cleanliness felt wrong. It was too quiet-- he couldn’t even hear the students on the other sides of either wall. And the view of the river looked like something you might see out of a retirement home. It was like he was sequestered here as a punishment.

And it was a punishment he probably deserved. 

Keith took a breath to chase away the familiar feelings of self-loathing that had been plaguing him for the last week. He was still doubting his decision to move to Gzowski, and whenever he thought about Lance a guiltiness swelled in his stomach, even if he tried to convince himself this move was for the greater good. After things calmed down and Keith went back to whatever feelings of friendship-slash-reluctant-affection he had for Lance, then they could go back to how things were before. He decided the best timeline would be before they started reading together; before Lance had accidentally kissed him. And maybe this time Keith wouldn’t fall for him.

There was already a new batch of texts from Lance on Keith’s phone when he went to check it. Every day there were a handful of them, and each day Keith swiped them away. He would check them eventually, he knew, but right now even seeing Lance’s name was bringing up too many emotions to keep track of. Or to control.

He wasn’t sure how long it was going to take to get over his crush on Lance. Maybe weeks. Maybe months. Maybe he was going to need to change colleges altogether, since seeing Lance’s face was guaranteed to--

There was a pair of knocks on the door and Keith froze where he sat on the edge of his big bed. He waited a breath, listening, before getting up quietly and moving across the new laminate flooring. He leaned slowly towards the peephole to see the fisheye image of Lance, shifting slightly where he stood on the other side of the door.

Keith couldn’t breathe-- if he did, he would be discovered. He wished he could stop his heart, too, which drummed loudly in his chest. He dared not move, either, lest the floor turned out to be less silent than he thought.

“Keith?”

He closed his eyes at the sound of that voice. It was soft and careful and already remorseful. Keith hoped he wouldn’t hear it again, because he could already feel himself wanting to give in to it.

“Keith, please,” Lance said softer now. “Please don’t ignore me.” There was a soft thud, as if Lance had dropped his forehead onto the door. There was a moment of silence where Keith did not hear the shuffling of movement and he knew that Lance was still there.

“I’m sorry,” Lance went on in a voice Keith could just barely hear through the door. “I- I don’t actually know what I did wrong. I want to know-- so that I don’t fuck up again. I’m terrible. I’m the worst roommate. I’m--”

Keith couldn’t stop himself from turning the knob and wrenching the door open violently. Lance, who had indeed been leaning on the door, lost balance and fell into the room with a squawk of alarm. He stumbled forward onto his hands and knees before looking up at Keith with wide eyes.

“S-sorry!” Keith managed, closing the door and offering a hand to Lance. The latter waved him off and arranged himself in a sitting position.

“I’m sorry I’m like this,” Lance said with a shake of his head. “I talk big but in the end I’m just a pile of bones and flesh that can’t go one day without embarrassment.” He covered his face with his hands for emphasis.

“Lance…”

“No, listen,” Lance interrupted, which Keith was honestly glad for. The whole reason for his radio silence had been because he had no idea what to say or how to act. He was desperate for Lance to fill the silence. He was desperate to hear his voice. 

Lance didn’t speak right away, but seemed to be gathering his thoughts. Unable to do anything but watch, Keith stood awkwardly above him, waiting. Lance kept parting his lips and closing them again, as if weighing each word before use.

“I know… I’m annoying. I’m too loud and I have this whole verbal diarrhea thing which is the worst term Hunk has coined, by the way. I don’t really think before speaking and I completely understand how that could get on someone’s nerves. And on top of that I’m messy and whiney and--”

“ _Lance!_ ” Keith snapped. Lance looked up at him with wide eyes, startled and then even more remorseful than before. Keith let out a frustrated groan that was entirely aimed at himself and sat on his computer chair. He wanted to stop Lance from spiraling further into the pit of self-blame that he had dug for himself, but Keith was only making things worse. “ _You_ are not the problem here,” he said, trying to keep the frustration out of his tone. “I am.”

“Don’t you dare pull the ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ bullshit on me,” Lance said with a pout that almost made him look back to normal. “Worst breakup line ever.”

“But it _is_ me,” Keith insisted, but then stopped himself when he realized what Lance had said. “And we aren’t _breaking up_.”

A strange look passed over Lance’s face, and for half a heartbeat Keith though he was about to make a lame joke. He held his breath as he felt the colour rising in his cheeks. A small smile spread over Lance’s lips, which made Keith want to look away. 

_We aren’t breaking up because we were never together,_ he wanted to say. _This is entirely one-sided. I should be the one apologizing for fucking up a perfectly good friendship._

“There’s nothing wrong with you, Keith,” Lance said and as he did so, he shuffled forward, towards the computer chair, until he was sitting just in front of Keith’s knees. “You’re the best roommate I’ve ever had. And that’s counting Hunk. Please don’t tell him I said that, but It’s _true_.”

Keith wanted to squash the happy feelings that were rising in his stomach, threatening to ruin his perfectly bad mood. “You’re the _only_ roommate I’ve ever had.”

“Well, I’m sorry I ruined that for you.”

Keith shook his head and released a sigh. “You didn’t. That’s what I’m trying to say: You aren’t annoying-- not usually. And I don’t _care_ about the mess. That’s not the problem.”

“So what is?”

Keith closed his mouth quickly and definitely blushed this time. He scrounged for a lie or an excuse that would satisfy the situation, but the longer the silence held, the worse they sounded in his head.

Lance was looking up at him with worried eyes, his face so soft and open that Keith had to fight to remain composed. “Keith, you can talk to me, right?” he said in a pleading voice. “We’re friends.”

 _I don’t want to be your friend,_ Keith thought hopelessly. _I want to kiss you._

Lance reaching up to lightly touch Keith’s fingers where they rested on his thigh wasn’t helping the situation. Keith watched as the tips of his tanned fingers drew a line up the side of his hand. He twitched once before slowly turning the hand over to face palm-up. Lance took Keith’s fingers in a loose hold and brushed his thumb over them. The sensation sent a shiver up Keith’s spine.

“I miss you,” Lance said in a small voice.

Keith was feeling his wall of determination crumble. How could he possible stay away from this guy? It was all he could do not to drop down on his knees and gather him into a tight embrace. He wanted to bury his face in his neck and breathe in his scent.

He took a deep breath and pressed his eyes closed. “Ugh, Lance…”

Lance gave the hand a little squeeze. “I miss our reading time. I miss studying with you. I miss your--” He paused and Keith snuck a look at him. He was pink around the ears. “I miss _snuggling_.”

Keith was going to have to break the mood, or his head was going to pop right off his shoulders. “You talk about me like I’m about to go off to war.”

“Well, you _are_ abandoning me.”

Keith allowed himself to breathe and rolled his eyes for good measure. “I barely live ten minutes from you,” he reasoned. “And you can come over whenever you want.” There, that was it-- the wall of resolve had completely collapsed. He was going to have to accept that he was going to see Lance every day, and it was up to him to keep him feelings to himself.

“Whenever I want?”

“Yeah.”

Lance was looking up at him like a lost puppy again. “Like, right _now_?”

“You’re literally already here,” Keith said scathingly. “There’s nothing I can do about it now.”

“I mean--” Lance paused to wet his lips and look down at the fingers that had become entwined together on Keith’s thigh. “Can we read?”

“God, yes.”

Keith immediately regretted this admission, if not for his own embarrassment, then for the wicked grin that it elicited on Lance’s face.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry! I meant to post this last night and then I got dragged into video games!

Lance _loved_ his present.

He had been confused when Keith had sent him away to retrieve it, realizing only after ripping off the paper that it had been a book after all: _Guardians of the West_ , the first book of the Mallorean. He gazed in awe at the fantasy cover that he recognized from his time in the library back home. It was in much better condition than the other books he had read with Keith, so it had to be brand new. He clutched it to his chest when he realized this, more than anything Keith had done before, was proof that his (ex)roommate didn’t hate him.

Which was great, because Lance _loved_ him.

He hadn’t really realized it until he was there, on his knees in front of Keith, desperate to not be thrown out the door. He knew in that moment that if Keith hated him after all, his heart was going to break and his whole world would end. And the feeling of relief and warmth and affection that he felt once he was convinced Keith didn’t hate him could not be mistaken for anything else.

Lance had never felt this way before. It was terrible and wonderful all at once, like the thrill of standing on the edge of a cliff. It felt exhilarating and he wanted to laugh out loud, but he was suddenly aware of the chasm beneath him. If he took even one step too far, he would fall.

But it didn’t matter-- Keith gave him a book and he wanted to read together and for now, that was enough. Lance practically ran back to the Gzowski building, slipping once on the snow on the quad and laughing as he picked himself back up. He couldn’t help laughing, not when he was literally _made_ of butterflies. 

Keith was sitting on his double bed when Lance returned, his knees drawn up and his phone between his hands. He was frowning when he looked up at Lance’s entrance.

“Lance, I…” he started before pausing. Lance felt his heart skip in trepidation. “I’m sorry. For not responding to your texts.” He looked at the phone again and scrolled downwards with a few idle swipes.

Lance waved as nonchalantly as he could manage. “Serious talk can come after we read,” he said, tossing the book on the bed so that it landed softly on the comforter. “For now let me believe that you are looking forward to this as much as I am.”

Keith turned a predictable shade of red, probably because he had admitted this desire not 20 minutes earlier. “Alright,” he mumbled, putting his phone aside and reaching for the book. “Do you want me to read, or--?”

“You, please,” Lance said, pouncing on the large bed on all fours. Keith yelped a protest as he pulled out of the way. “This bed is _huge_!”

“It’s too big for me,” Keith grunted as he rearranged himself.

“It’s perfect!” Lance pulled away the neatly made covers and snuggled underneath. “Wow. I could get used to this.”

When Keith didn’t reply, Lance looked up to his face. It was still red, and he was busying himself with the first few pages of the book. Tentatively, Lance reached out and ran two fingers up the length of Keith’s arm. When this didn’t elicit a response, he shuffled closer and pressed his face in instead.

“What are you _doing?_ ” Keith asked quickly, a hint of panic in his voice.

“Recharging,” Lance said as he rubbed his nose back and forth over the warm arm. “Just read, please.”

And then everything was right in the world again. Keith’s voice was a soothing balm, erasing the past day of anguish and worry and replacing it with relief and contentment. The afternoon sun spilled onto the bed, moving slowly along the comforter as the chapters progressed. Occasionally a voice travelled through the door or window, but it sounded distant, as though worlds away. Lance and Keith sat together in their bubble of intimacy, lost in the story and in the warmth of each other’s bodies.

Lance might have felt drowsy but for the tingling feeling in his stomach, as though he had swallowed a bolt of lightning. He was so aware of the other body, even if it sat on top of the covers, separating them. He watched Keith as he read, focusing on his eyes and mouth, suppressing the desire to reach out and run his fingers over his lips. He watched until he found himself missing parts of the story, and was forced to stop Keith and make him go back a few lines.

“Let’s take a break,” Keith said after the third time. “You’re worse than a toddler.”

Lance let out a whine that did nothing to help his case.

“I’ve already read 4 chapters, Lance,” Keith scolded. “I’m tired.”

“Then let’s take a nap,” Lance conceded, rearranging one of the pillows under his head.

“Lance, we _can’t_.”

“And why not? We don’t have classes today. This is the _perfect_ napping time.” When Keith was silent on the issue, Lance was forced to open his eyes and look up at him where he had not moved. He was watching Lance with an alarmed look on his face, which was flushed again. “What’s wrong?”

“D-don’t you find it… weird?”

Lance frowned. “Do you?” He suddenly remembered himself and scrambled into a sitting position. “Sorry, I can go.” He made to slide out of bed when Keith’s hand caught him by the arm. Lance paused and the hand was retracted quicker than a snake.

“It’s not weird,” Keith blurted, talking to the book still in his hands. “I mean, I don’t find it weird. I like it. But I didn’t think you would. You _shouldn’t_.”

“Seriously, buddy?” Lance couldn’t help with condescension that slipped into his tone. “We’ve been doing this for months and you’re only starting to question it now?”

“Things change,” Keith said in a low tone, scowling at the book. 

Lance tilted his head slightly, watching that face as it seemed to struggle with something internal. “Like what?”

Keith continued to struggle, his face going from frustrated to anguished and back again. This was it-- the thing that had made Keith move out of their shared dorm room. Lance sat in silence, trying in vane to guess what could have Keith so tied in knots. What could be so shocking that he could not say it outright? Was it something too embarrassing? Was it something that caused him pain?

Lance reached out to brush away a lock of black hair over Keith’s troubled brow. He wanted to brush away the bad thoughts, too. He wanted Keith to feel at ease. “You don’t have to tell me.” He wanted to know, but it was not worth the strife he could see in those eyes. “I can stay or go. Your choice.”

Keith’s eyes looked heavy, like he was suddenly tired. His eyelids fluttered and he let his gaze only settle on Lance for a moment before he was back to considering the book. “Stay,” he muttered finally. He busied himself with the blankets while Lance let a guilty, excited feeling fill his arms and legs.

Whether or not Keith actually slept Lance would never know, even if he spent the entire time awake, listening to his breath.

\-----------------------

“I am so, completely screwed.”

Lance stared at the glass of beer in his hands, as if it were his confidant and not the stunned man standing just beyond it, figure warped by the glass. He couldn’t look at Hunk’s face, which was undoubtedly still frozen in a slack-jawed expression of surprise.

“You’ve been sleeping together for _how long?_ ” he asked again, which, frankly, was starting to get on Lance’s nerves.

“Not _sleeping together_ ,” Lance corrected with a growl. “Just, _sleeping_. No sex-- unfortunately.”

It sounded like Hunk was choking, with Lance pointedly ignored. He knew Hunk’s reaction was going to be like this, but it was worth the humiliation. Once he was over his initial shock, he knew Hunk was the best person to talk to about all this. He would eventually have some good insights.

“That’s the problem-- this weird limbo between relationship and not relationship. If this was anyone else I would have gone for it already. But this is Keith, which means there are several problems. Not the least of which being the fact that he’s a dude.”

Hunk seemed to be recovering, or, at least, he downed half his pint of beer and closed his mouth. “Never stopped you before.”

“Yeah, but Keith is probably _straight_. Heck, I don’t even know if he’s into relationships _at all_. What do you call that? Asexual?” Lance ran his free hand through his hair, unaware of how messy he was making it after meticulously grooming for the party tonight.

They were upstairs at a house party in a room that seemed to belong to a closet rock collector. There were several infographic posters of gems and minerals on the walls and one of the shelves was entirely filled with rocks.

“And I’m still not entirely sure he doesn’t hate me.”

Hunk let out a sigh, and Lance knew he had him hooked. All it took was a little self deprecation to convince his friend to lend an ear, and maybe even a hug. “He definitely doesn’t hate you, dude.” Hunk joined him on the bed, sitting close enough that he was able to put his arms around him. Lance was pulled into a half Hunk-hug. “That we know.”

“I’m not so sure. I sort of feeling like I’m stalking him. Am I stalking him?”

“You’re sort of stalking him,” Hunk admitted. “But I think he’d do the same. Remember when you decided to ditch us right around finals time? He was going _crazy_ without you. Like, checking his phone and jumping up when he saw someone who looked like you. If I knew at that time what a mess you’d be now, I would have told him to jump your bones already.”

Lance felt the heat rising in his cheeks. “I’m sure he wouldn’t want to _’jump my bones’_.”

“Maybe he would. We don’t know!”

“If he did, why did he move out? Why aren’t we living together anymore?” Lance frowned at his beer again. Beer was _supposed_ to make him feel better.

Hunk released his arm and leaned back on the bed. “I don’t know, man. But he hasn’t completely shut you out. Maybe you should just go for it.”

“Go for _what_?”

“I don’t know-- ask him out maybe? Or tell him how you feel?”

Lance wanted to stop the choked, hot feeling from squeezing his throat and stomach. “You’d really wish that level of embarrassment on me?”

Hunk was sighing again. “Don’t be a baby, Lance. What are you afraid of? That he’ll get all freaked out and move out-- oh wait!”

Lance rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t help but see Hunk’s point. What _was_ the worse that could happen? He had already endured the silent treatment from Keith, what could happen next? Would he change colleges because of him? That seemed an extreme measure to take just because of an unwanted confession.

“Lance-- you guys have been, what, cuddling? For a whole semester?”

“Sorta.”

“ _Sorta_ cuddling for a whole semester. And he’s been letting you cuddle, right? He hasn’t said ‘no’ or freaked out or anything?”

Lance didn’t want to admit it, but Hunk was right. “No…”

“Seriously, dude. If that isn’t a green light, I don’t know what is.” He paused and looked around the room, a little smile coming over his face. “Honestly, Shay and I were past cuddling on day 2.”

Lance allowed a grin to creep back onto his face. “You guys are pretty gross,” he admitted. “Congratulations, man.”

“Thanks. Now let’s go countdown. I don’t know about your boyfriend, but Shay could break me in half if she thought we were canoodling up here.” Hunk stood up with a stretch.

“I don’t _have_ a boyfriend.”

Hunk grinned in a way that should have looked innocent. “Not yet.”


	16. Chapter 16

Keith wasn’t sure if he was ever going to get used to being at parties. He was getting better at finding that spot on the couch, close to someone he knew but also far enough from the centre of attention. From there he could watch the party in relative silence, pulled only in conversations with those sitting nearby and not being forced to meet anyone new. None-the-less he felt the tug of awkwardness he always felt in large groups and he spent a lot of time hiding behind his mug of tea. 

He had started the party next to Lance, who was attentive and smiling and goofier than Keith had seen him in a long time. It was endearing, which was lending itself to the problem of trying not to have a ridiculous crush on him. He hadn’t even had time to process what had happened yesterday before New Year’s Eve was upon them and Hunk was dragging them to Shay’s house to get the place ready. 

When Lance left to have a secret conference with Hunk, a conference that Keith was not invited to and was overwhelmingly curious about, Keith was left alone with Pidge, who he got along with just fine. They made engineering small talk which evolved into making fun of every other program on campus. He liked Pidge-- they were sarcastic and enthusiastic in turns, a good study partner, and fairly open and unreserved with their ideas. Pidge was younger, it turned out, but it didn’t stop them from being one of the most mature people in Keith’s circle.

But after the first hour, Keith was starting to worry about Lance. It was only 20 minutes to midnight and Hunk had hatched a brilliant (terrible) scheme of lighting fireworks off over the river. Unfortunately his new girlfriend, Shay, backed the idea and was gathering supplies already. There were 30 odd people there, mostly students, and all drinking. Keith wondered who would be the idiot who ended up blowing themselves up tonight. He was willing to put his money on Lance.

Luckily Lance and Hunk reappeared with 15 minutes to go, laughing off Pidge’s accusation of a prolonged make-out session. Shay mocked jealousy and Hunk grabbed her around the middle and lifted her up so that she giggled happily. They made for an adorable couple, despite her being inches taller than Hunk and having the arms of a weight lifter. She was in the geology program and was a rower, and her shy, yet nerdy personality fit perfectly with the friendly, outgoing engineer.

“We weren’t making out,” Lance said as he dropped onto the old couch beside Keith. He was grinning as usual, but there was something in how he glanced at Keith out of the corner of his eye that made him look nervous. “Just talking!”

“Yeah, right,” Keith teased, which caught Lance off guard, according to the surprised look on his face. “You whore.”

“Whores get _paid_ ,” Lance said, not missing another beat. “I think what you mean to call me is a ‘slut’, and I would thank you _not_ to, because I am as innocent as an angel.”

Keith snorted and took the beer out of Lance’s hands to take a drink. It was bitter and tasted like it had been in a keg for too long. “Innocent-- right. That’s definitely a word I would use to describe you.”

Lance snatched his beer back. “Alright, Mr. Sarcasm. I’ll thank you not to get drunk on my beer. I am not carrying you home.”

“Too bad,” Keith said, and he had meant it as a joke, but he couldn’t help the colour from flooding his cheeks. Lance didn’t reply, which only made it worse.

“Fireworks!” Hunk declared loudly, to the sounds of cheers around the crowded living room. “Follow me, children!”

They filed out of the house, most sensible people leaving their drinks at the door at other foolish ones hiding their bottles or glasses under their coats. Lance bragged that he could fit a bottle in his jacket and Keith made a point of calling him an ‘idiot’, which made him laugh. Keith felt his heart skip at the sound and tried not to let it show on his face as they walked down to the riverfront one street away.

The wide Galilee river snaked along one side of the campus and wrapped through the centre of the little college town where Shay and other students lived. It was a great rowing river, and a scenic feature of the landscape. At night, they could see the lights of houses across the way, reflected on the water that had yet to freeze over completely. 

Keith’s leather jacket was quickly becoming useless against the winter chill. He was going to have to break down and buy a real winter coat before the next semester. He hugged himself against the wind that came whipping off the river, grateful, at least, for his toque and scarf.

“ _Damn_ ,” Lance was saying through chattering teeth. His bomber jacket was not much more sensible than Keith’s, and he only had a hood for his head. “It’s _freezing_.”

Keith shook his head with a breath of laugh and unwound his long checkered scarf. “Here,” he said, feeling like a mother with her whining child. He turned to Lance in order to loop the scarf over his shoulders. It was long enough that you could wrap it several times around your face and neck and had been especially useful last year on Keith’s northern trips. Lance silently allowed himself to be bundled, not moving to take his hands out of his pockets while watching Keith work. “Thanks,” he mumbled into the cotton fabric once Keith was done. His voice was throaty and honest, and it made Keith blush.

“Anything to stop you from whining,” Keith said lamely as he turned away, unable to hold the gaze.

“One minute!” someone called. The group of revellers were crowded by the grassy bank overlooking the water. Hunk and Shay were huddled around the convenience store fireworks, shoving them in the ground in preparation . At 30 seconds, they lit them and everyone stood back, which was surprisingly sensible for a bunch of tipsy students. 

“FIVE.”

“FOUR.”

“THREE.”

“TWO.”

“ONE. HAPPY NEWYEAR!”

Somehow Hunk and Shay’s calculations had been correct, and only one rocket went off before the last second. The others followed intermittently, to the cheers and cries of ‘Happy New Year!’. The colours exploded weakly in front of them, but the sparks and lights shimmered prettily on the water. The lights illuminated Hunk and Shay, who threw their arms around each other and kissed deeply. Another nearby couple scooped low for a dramatic kiss and suddenly several people were kissing each other, as was the new year tradition.

Keith’s mind was racing. He had an idea, and some part of him was screaming about how _bad_ of an idea it was, but his impulses were not listening. He grabbed Lance’s arm, forcing him to turn. A particular bright flash of light showed a surprised expression, but Keith was too far determined to stop what he was doing now.

It was simply a matter of pushing the scarf out of the way and leaning forward to kiss Lance on the lips. He did it quickly, before logic could take over. Lance’s lips were cold and soft and when he pulled away they were parted slightly. He watched Lance release a breath which smoked in the cold air.

“Happy New Year,” Keith said quickly, releasing the scarf and turning back to the river. His entire body was tingling and hot and a sudden flood of panic was surging through his mind. 

But then Lance was stepping around him to block the river from his sight. He felt a warm hand slide along the side of his jaw and neck and pull his head forward. Keith wasn’t ready for the kiss, so it wasn’t much more than two mouths bumping together. But the second was more deliberate and by the third Keith was returning the kisses. He pulled his hands out of his pockets to find Lance’s waist and chest while Lance twined his fingers in his hair.

The moment had to end, because Keith was sober and confused and he needed to look in Lance’s eyes to get some kind of explanation. The moment they disentangled, Lance’s mouth ran away with him. 

“Keith I like you so much,” he was saying with a broken voice. He had not yet released his gentle hold on the either side of Keith’s head. “And not just like a friend. I want to be with you and snuggle with you every night and if you don’t like me back I think I might have to cry.”

“Lance,” Keith breathed, but he couldn’t follow up with anything, because Lance was still talking.

“Please tell me you like me and this isn’t some kind of dream. Tell me you didn’t move out because you can’t stand me.”

“Stop it,” Keith said softly, but he bumped foreheads with Lance to drive the message home. “I don’t hate you. I moved out because I thought-- I thought it would be better for you. Better for _me_. Because I like you too much.” His voice cracked at the last admission, but he was too deep now to stop talking. “I like you so much and I was afraid you didn’t like me and moving seemed like the only way to stop what I was feeling.”

“You idiot,” Lance said, but he sounded relieved. “You _idiot_. How could I not like you?” He leaned forward and this time the kiss was long and lingering, leaving Keith flushed from head to toe. 

“You’re the idiot,” Keith managed before kissing Lance back. “Who drunkenly kisses his roommate and then proceeds to never speak of it again?”

“Sorry,” Lance replied out of the corner of his mouth as he refused to stop a kiss. “I'll make it up to you.”

“I'll add it to the list.”

Lance breathed a laugh which mirrored the jubilation that was bubbling in Keith’s chest. He felt his head swim with the overwhelming sensation of relief and happiness, and had to close his eyes and breathe just to steady himself. 

“Move over Keith, it’s _my_ turn.”

Keith felt himself being (gently) moved away from Lance, and, too shocked to put up a fight, he allowed it. Hunk stepped forward and pulled Lance into a big bear hug, ignoring how he grunted in protest. Suddenly Keith was aware of everyone else too: Shay was laughing behind Hunk, Pidge was _winking_ and several other people were giving Lance and Keith significant looks. 

Keith buried his face in his hands and decided that this was as good a day to die as any.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh, this was SUPPOSED to be the last chapter but I might write a quick epilogue. Stay tuned!


	17. Epilogue

Keith lay in his bed, staring at the white ceiling and counting each breath as it rattled in and out of his chest. If he focused on the breaths, he was distracted from the pounding in his head and the sharp pain in his sinuses. Every so often his eyes would water and a tingle would warn him that he was going to start sneezing again. He wanted to go back to sleep, but he couldn’t breathe out of his nose and his mouth was so dry already.

Actually, what he wanted was a quick and painless end to his life.

“Hey sicky~~” The door clicked open, a relative silent sound compared to the squeak and rattle his of the old dorm. He got used to leaving his door unlocked when he was here, though the invader would have gotten through the locked door anyway. Who had let him have a second key anyway?

Lance slunk in gently, which was rare for him, who usually burst into any room with an explosion of confetti. He was wearing a careful smile over the top of Keith’s checked scarf and holding a plastic bag.

“Why are you smiling?” Keith grumbled, hugging his pillow to his chin.

“You don't know how much I've been looking forward to this.” Lance dropped his coat and kicked his boots off messily on the floor before settling on the edge of the bed. “I got all the goods: Tylenol, that drinkable shit, Gatorade, _chocolate_...”

Keith made a grab for the strong cold medicine but Lance snatched it out of his reach. “Here, let me.”

Keith growled into his pillow. “Just give it to me, damnit. I’m not a baby.”

“Oh come on,” Lance whined. “I want to take care of you.” He sprawled out onto the bed, nestling into that spot by the edge where he had slept days ago. He leveled himself with Keith’s eyes and the look that he gave was unbearable.

Keith couldn’t hold that gaze without blushing. “You _are_ taking care of me,” he muttered in a low voice. “This is fine, Lance. I’m OK.” But Lance was still pouting, so Keith sighed and rolled his eyes. “You can read to me. How about that?”

Lance grinned and sat up to grab the book from the bed stand. He relinquished the medicine and Keith took a healthy swig, determined to destroy all the mucus in his body and knock himself the fuck out. Then he got comfortable and closed his eyes while Lance started to read. He was reading in a surprisingly quiet voice, making only minor adjustments to make himself sound like an old wizard or a heroic fighter or a stubborn queen. Keith smiled to himself and felt at peace.

It might have been several days later when he finally came to. It was light outside, which suggested at first that only a few hours passed, but the clock told him it was 9am. A sudden lurch of panic reminded him that today was the first day of classes.

“Woah, buddy,” came Lance’s voice. Keith looked down at his Lance’s newly woken form, a lazy smile spread over a groggy face. “Go back to sleep.”

“We have to go to _class_ , Lance.”

Lance’s grin was half-buried in the pillow. “Nope. We’re having a snow day-- professor couldn’t get into town so he cancelled.”

Keith felt a rush of relief and he released a breath. With that out of the way, he got back to the business of flushing in pleasure at the sight of Lance sleeping next to him in bed. He wasn’t sure he would ever get used to it.

Lance reached up and brushed a finger across Keith’s forehead. His smile faded into a look of calm awe. “How are you feeling?”

Keith forced himself to take a breath. “A lot better. Like, crazy better.”

Lance raised himself slightly on one arm and licked his lower lip in a way that said he was nervous. “Does that mean,” he said before swallowing. “I can kiss you again?”

Keith felt himself grow warm. He had refused to let Lance get close to him since he got sick a day and a half ago, which meant they hadn’t kissed since that fateful New Year’s party. “Yeah, I guess,” he said, trying to sound casual despite the racing of his heart.

Lance sat up slowly and cupped a hand on Keith’s jaw. The kiss was, in Keith’s opinion, agonizingly soft. He leaned into it, trying to feel as much of Lance’s touch as he could before it was broken off.

“Nice,” Lance breathed.

A surge of feeling started in Keith’s lower body and shot up through him like wildfire. He pushed back the covers and stretched a leg over Lance’s lap. Surprised, Lance fell back against the headboard before he was assaulted with lips and hands. 

Keith didn’t have much experience kissing, but he knew what he wanted, which was mostly tasting every part of Lance that he possibly could. He kissed his brow and the corner of his mouth before travelling to his jaw bone and neck. Lance’s hand got a hold of his chin after that, and guided their mouths back together. Lips parted and Keith felt the thrill of pleasure as a tongue flicked over his mouth. He returned the gesture messily, enjoying the slick wet feeling of tongue on tongue.

Lance broke the kiss, pushing against Keith’s shoulders and gasping for breath. He face was touched pink and his eyes were heavy lidded. “You’re gunna have to stop that, buddy.”

“What?”

Lance gestured downward with a nod of his head and Keith realized that his hips had been moving on their own accord. He was suddenly very aware that both of them were only wearing boxer briefs. “Oops.”

“Yeah, uh, I might need to be excused in a minute here.”

Keith narrowed his eyes. “ _Why?_ ”

Lance looked away, embarrassed. “Geez, man. Do I really need to spell it out for you?” He half covered his hand with his face and crossed an arm over his torso, almost protectively. “My boyfriend is basically dry humping me, and it's giving me problems, alright?”

Keith felt a new, hot flood of emotions fill him up like a vat of molten steel. It bubbled to his face and choked him as he tried to speak. “Boy-- boyfriend?”

Lance pulled his hand away from his face suddenly. “Oh, shit. Sorry. I mean… is that alright?”

There was no way Keith was going to speak without his voice turning into bubbles, so instead he covered his face with two hands and groaned. He rolled off of Lance and onto the bed, overwhelmed with that expanding warmth in his chest. He was so happy he could die.

“Keith, buddy?” Lance said with a laugh in his throat. “Come back to me!”

Keith responded by curling into a little ball and moaning. Lance laughed again and brushed the hair away from Keith’s face, trying to see what expression was being hid furiously behind hands.

“Are you my _boyfriend_?” he asked with a voice that was very close to Keith’s ear. He could feel his breath warm the exposed parts of his face. Keith tried to stifle the little defeated groan that was rumbling in his throat. “Am I your super awesome boyfriend? The light of your life? Your soul mate?”

Keith turned quickly, his pillow in hand. He swatted Lance and it made a satisfying ‘thwack’ sound that muffled his laughs. “You’re nothing to me!” Keith declared as he continued to try to smother Lance with a pillow, which somehow did nothing to stop him from laughing hysterically. “I regret everything! I’m going to find a _new_ boyfriend, one who-- ack!”

Lance had retaliated and was trying to pin Keith to the bed. He managed to lock his hands and stilled Keith with a deep and steady kiss. When he pulled away, he had the most convincing pair of puppy dog eyes on that Keith had ever seen.

“But we are, right? Boyfriends?”

Keith rolled his eyes to cover for the flush of red that was no doubt covering his face. “Of course,” he mumbled. “I said I liked you, right?”

Lance was grinning like a fool, and it made Keith want to kiss him again, so he did.

“Great,” Lance said in between kisses. “Peachy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There. She's done. Wow, I am happy with this stupid little epilogue. Can I say that? That I'm proud of my own work?
> 
> Thanks for everyone who followed me through my updates. I love you guys. <3
> 
> Next up: Some fucking stupid idea I have about a Rennfaire AU. God, help us all.

**Author's Note:**

> I am lanceylanceface on tumblr SEND ME ASKS OR MESSAGES BECAUSE I LOVE IT


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